Mirror House
by division-ten
Summary: The aftereffects of holding the Power Stone, as a unit, were not quite what anyone expected. Being sandblasted from the inside with everyone else's' well, everything, they all thought they'd get each others' nightmares or memories. They were wrong.
1. Who We Are

Prompt request from Nianque:

"_**After-effects from the Infinity Stone: Something like Power (incarnate?) flowing through you [the Guardians] and 3 or 4 people has to do something weird I would think."**_

This is going to be a six-chapter (possibly with one extra bonus chapter) story, probably one chapter every other week. I have a whole bunch of other half-finished stories to work on (one more chapter of _**Thrusters**_, six of _**ReN**_, and more chapters of _**The Hunt**_ and _**Risky Business**_), but this was in my head all night last night.

I do, unfortunately, have a full time job- I write before work and on my lunch break- but will be away for almost two weeks starting next Wednesday- first to an anime convention, and then to some business trips immediately thereafter. I'll see any of you going to Katsucon! I'll be 100th Anniversary Gamora on Friday (the version of her where she wears Indiana Jones style clothing, has pink-colored skin around her eyes and black eyebrows), Rocket on Saturday, and Naoto Shirogane (from Persona 4) on Sunday, and I'll be at the official 2PM Marvel shoot on Saturday with my Star-Lord. Basically, I'm going to be on hiatus until Feb 22- I may post another chapter of something (_**Risky Business **_if anything, so somelittlemoster has time to write another chapter if he wants), but unfortunately, this may be the last thing I put out before I hit the road.

I'd also like to take a moment to recommend my absolute favorite ongoing single fic right now. There are a lot of one-shots like **Thanks for the Memories** that I love, but not so many long-running stories.

**a Bit of Both** by **BunnyRock**

This one is _**fantastic**_, and because it's only on Fanfiction and rated M (for violence), nobody sees it. Go read it. Do it _**now**_. I implore you, give this writer more views. Like me, they do have a lot of typos due to medical reasons (I'm blind, BunnyRock has dyslexia), but it is **so good** you will not care.

On to your regularly scheduled hilarity.

* * *

It was their first full 'night' on the Milano, and Rocket woke up freezing. He _**never**_ woke up freezing; the opposite was usually true. The Milano was an M-class ship, the kind Rocket usually stole himself before becoming part of this stupid bunch of idiots, but these things were meant for one, max two. Sure, they were huge, but they were cargo ships, and the cargo bay was only pressurized, grav'ed, and filled with oxygen if cargo was live. The actual living quarters were tiny, and barely slept two, let alone five. Sure, the mods Nova made to it made it habitable enough, with a permanent habitable field installed in the cargo bay that had been broken up into a smaller space for actual cargo plus living quarters, but the cargo bay was a vertical space, not a horizontal one, and with Rocket's quarters a neat cubicle above Drax's, and artificial grav in full force, heat rose. Rocket liked it that way. Rocket's sleeping quarters could be accessed by a ladder, built into the side of a wall, and were just large enough for himself and one human-sized person to crawl in; the area was just a mattress with locked shelving secured to the walls of the cube, no windows.

Warm, dark, comforting. As he liked it. It also meant the space that was supposed to be his sleeping room was now a much larger workshop. The space above Drax's room was indented to be storage, but Rocket spent the first day onboard readjusting until the two spaces had been switched.

Despite Rocket's need to wear full clothing in front of others, mostly as a sign of his sentience, he preferred sleeping in the buff, puffing out his fur and curling into a nest of blankets. His fur was plenty warm enough.

But Rocket woke up freezing and huge and awkward, head and feet both pressed right up to the padded inside of his quarters (hey, if grav goes down, you don't want to smack your head on a hard metal corner).

He felt big, and cold, and numb.

He screamed, and it wasn't his voice that escaped his lips.

It was Peter's.

X

"Peter?!" Gamora bolted awake from her bunk, and looked to the other side of the alley between the galley and cockpit where Peter's bunk was located. Peter was half on his bunk, arm dangling off, drooling and snoring loudly into his pillow. But Gamora _**knew**_ what she heard. Peter. From the cargo bay below.

Gamora took a quick stock of her surroundings. The low hum from the cockpit was Drax's, and Groot, having just opened his eyes that morning when they left Xandar, was ensconced in a small greenhouse in the galley. Peter was still in his bunk. Which meant the only person conceivably in the cargo bay was Rocket, in his new quarters. She slipped out of bed, and made her way down below deck.

She definitely heard whimpering. "Rocket? Are you all right?" she asked, as she climbed the ladder and slid open the storage door, sitting on the small outcropping next to the door opening.

"Gah! No!" Rocket cried, but the bulkhead was already open, and Gamora was many times stronger than Rocket, especially now that he was… human? _**Peter**_? The human was frightened, cocooning himself in blankets when Gmora noticed the flash of purple across his eyes.

"Rocket," she said with finality. "I think the stone did this. Calm down." But Rocket wasn't calm; trying to squeeze himself into the back corner of his now too-small room.

Gamora needed to think fast. If the Stone did this to Rocket, the last to take in it's power maybe she could…?

She felt her mouth and nose begin to fuse and extend as a unit- painless and far-off. When she touched it, she had soft fur, her nose now textured and wet.

"Looks like it's not just you," she said, as Rocket watched in surprise, slowly uncurling himself from the far corner. Gamora's voice was somewhere between her own register and Rocket's.

Gamora thought of her own face, it's soft green features, and felt the snout recede back to a nose and mouth. She was more relieved than she'd ever let on, knowing that she could transform back. It didn't _**feel**_ like a risk, it felt like she just knew she could.

Less than a week ago, back on Xandar, they had all become a single being for mere seconds, awash in each other's minds and bodies from contact with the Stone. Gamora expected nightmares, or flashbacks or memories of the other three to surface in her mind. But actually become them? Was this the aftereffect of the Stone for those who banded together to use it?

Either way, her little display of trust had worked. Peter-faced Rocket was now breathing at an even pace, and reached a hand out to Gamora.

"How did you turn back?" Rocket asked, still, jarringly, with Peter's voice.

"Just think of yourself. Focus on it."

Rocket closed his eyes, and Gamora felt the large, calloused human hand shrink inside her own, forming a more calloused, tiny clawed paw. She looked up, and the face that had been Peter was slowly extending and fusing back into the furred beast, ears rising and settling atop the head, snout forming, fur and whiskers sprouting like grass. Only when he finished did he start shaking, and Gamora scooped him up, still in a blanket, and rocked and held him in her arms.

"Th-th-thanks," Rocket eventually sputtered. "Not used to people carin' bout me still. Sorry if I'm scratchin' ya."

"Are you okay?" Gamora held him closer, without applying too much pressure. She could still feel Rocket's heart pounding a mile a minute.

"Think so."

Gamora gently placed the bundled Rocket back in his tiny room.

"Do you need anything?"

"I'm… I'm good," Rocket replied. "At least if I wake up as you next time I know what to do."

Gamora ruffled his fur on top of his head. "I wonder what it's like to be you, completely," she mused. "Would I become as smart as you? This might actually be a useful skill."

"Well, I know when I was Peter I felt kinda numb. And blind. And deaf. And couldn't feel nuttin'. How the flarg does he function? Only good thing was his height and even that's a problem in here." Rocket's fur puffed up in indignation as he spread his arms wide to take stock of the crawlspace. "Probably cool to be Drax though. He can lift a groundcar without thinkin' bout it."

"Let's go back to sleep and sort this out in our next cycle," Gamora said, stretching. "I think I have had enough excitement for now."

"Point," Rocket said, pulling the blankets tighter around himself. "G'night, 'Mora." He neglected to mention he'd smelled his own scent coming from Peter's hotel room back on Xandar the night after they'd touched the Stone. It sat in the back of his mind, mulling there, as he drifted back to sleep.

X

Peter woke up first, oblivious to the events of the night before, and rolled out of bed into the shower. When he stepped out of the stall, jumping into his pants, he smelled eggs and toast. He never had woken up to cooking before- usually he'd snuck out of his one-night stand's quarters before daylight broke, trudging himself back to his own ship to boil some

oatmeal or fry an egg if he was lucky.

He put money on Drax; Drax had already cooked them food once before in their suite while they were waiting on repairs of the Milano and their own bodies. Who knew the brute was a chef? Then again… knifework.

Speaking of repairs of their own bodies… Peter was glad he'd gotten his own room back on Xandar. The first night after they'd touched the stone, he had felt it surging through him… everyone else's whole… well, _**everything**_ bombarding his body and mind. He was glad it had happened where Rocket was the first one he'd become, flipping out in a fit and jumping out of the pile of now-too-big clothes just in time, as he'd turned from Rocket to Drax in the hotel room. Eventually it rounded back to his old self, and he was too startled and embarrassed to say anything to the rest of them.

Being Groot, even if it were just for five minutes, was weird as hell. Weirder even than Rocket. He practically tasted the floor with his hands when he'd been Rocket and being Groot was even more odd than that.

At least it had been a one-time thing, he thought, or, when he'd been told that he was only half-human, maybe it was just his dad's side kicking in? Once they were all settled, he wanted to try shapeshifting again, see if he was limited to the rest of the idiots on the ship or if he could turn into anything he could think of.

So, when he toweled off his hair and plodded back up to the upper deck to the galley, only to see his own face staring intently at a pot full of poached eggs, he was only half in utter shock.

"Mornin' princess," came his own voice out of his own face in his own body, that was definitely, totally, not his. "Sorry, borrowed some of your clothes. Pretty sure you'd be pissed at me swingin' your bits around for the universe to see."

"I… what… _**Rocket**_?!" Peter sputtered out, bug eyed.

"Hey, I smelled me coming from your hotel room last week," Rocket said, tapping his human nose with a finger tilted slightly inward, so he wouldn't claw himself (despite no longer having claws). "When I started transformin' myself last night, I put two and two together. We can all turn into each other. Also, this ship is built for freaking tall people and I couldn't reach any of the pots without walking directly on the stove. So I stole yer face."

"So this is Stone related?" Peter said, still half in shock, as he sat down at the table near the stovetop.

"Gams seems to think so," Rocket replied, struggling with the toaster oven, and holding on to a no-grav bar, placed for if the artificial grav shorted out to have something to cling to. "Dude, walking as you is giving me serious vertigo. Can you cook? I need to turn back."

"Has Gamora turned into me, too?" Peter finnaly sputtered out, taking the spoon from Rocket as Rocket carefully walked himself down the steps, gripping the grav bars the whole way.

"Just me, I think, and only part of my face," Rocket replied, his voice melting back into his own timbre as it got further from the galley. "Fuckin' creepy, that was." Rocket darted back up the steps, himself again, wearing a loose tank top and shorts, carrying Peter's clothes. He deftly folded them back up and put them in one of the lockdrawers at the foot of Peter's bunk near the galley.

"You folded my clothes?" was all Peter could say, as he spooned out the poached eggs, and plated the toast with warm soft cheese.

"I don't make a mess of things," Rocket replied. "When you're my size, some strewn clothes is a mountain, a gun on the floor's a landmine. Everything's got a place."

"You knew I turned into you," Peter said, holding out two plates, as Rocket jumped up on the table eager for food. "Why didn't you say anything then?"

"Thought it was some sort of Terran thing I just didn't know about. Some aliens have tactile kenesis. Figured it was normal for ya since you weren't freaking out, scent-wise." Rocket paused and sniffed his plate. "Got any ketchup? 'N can I have a dish of water?"

"No, and yes, and _**ew**_. Ketchup on eggs?"

"Shaddup. We prolly have different taste buds, anyway," Rocket replied, snatching the offered water dish from Peter and dunking his fingers in before picking up the toast.

Peter sighed, and slumped into the seat next to Rocket.

"Probably do."

"When you turned into Groot, it smelled like an adult Groot," Rocket said, a few moments later in between bites.

"I was. It was so weird. I didn't even know how to breathe, I thought I was going to die," Peter replied, as he hailed down Gamora as she rose from her own bunk.

"So you can change as well," Gamora said drowsily, as she fixed herself her own plate for breakfast.

"Maybe we should teach each other," Rocket said thoughtfully, licking flecks of cheese off his claws. "How to be us, I mean. Like, if we need to do something in a tight spot, I ain't opposed to someone else bein' me, too. If you're okay with it, Gams, you're the stealthiest of all of us- that'd definitely come in handy. If we need muscle, we can have a team fulla Draxs n' Groots."

"And if we need to dance to distract a homicidal maniac, or seduce unsuspecting waifs, we can all turn into Peter," Gamora finished, slyly. Peter responded with a raspberry and a playful middle finger.

"I wonder if Groot can talk if he turns into one of us," Gamora added, fishing in the cold storage for some marmalade.

"He understands words just fine, just can't enunciate with his larynx," Rocket said. "So, yeah, prolly. _If_ he can transform like we can. The stick I held when we touched the stone isn't the one I replanted. We may be able to turn inta' him, but I dunno if he can shapeshift too."

A squeak from mid-deck, followed by the sound of a pot shattering.

"Groo?" came Drax's voice from the space beyond.

"Dude, I just planted you and you already ruin your pot?" Rocket called, before hopping and sneaking under the curtained divider. "And eff, _**put on some flarkin' pants, man**_."


	2. Everyone is Rocket

_**Written on the train! Have a chapter beyond what I was expecting to write. Working on Risky Business #6 as well. May see it sometime this weekend- I will be stuck on transit for another 6 hours.**_

* * *

"**_Breathe_**, dammit! You have lungs, use 'em!" shouted Rocket.

Peter ran, tearing back the curtain divider to see a panicking Rocket, and a more panicking naked Drax (or Groot-turned-Drax, really), covered in soil attempting to breathe. Peter smacked Groot hard on his back, and he began coughing.

"Thank you," he hoarsely spoke once he'd started to breathe properly.

"You really **_can_** talk," Peter said, shocked.

"Told you," Rocket replied. "You just can't hear what he's actually saying, with your Terran ears."

"**_Half_** Terran ears," Peter corrected, as he started sweeping up the spilled soil in his hands, and rolling the curtain back for Gamora's sake. "Also, my eyesight in regular lighting is ten times better than yours."

"Dude, I was you last night and this morning and couldn't see shit," Rocket replied, combing the floor for broken terra cotta.

"I said _regular_ lighting, not _low_ lighting. You probably have better night vision than me."

"Eh. Whatev's. Groot, you okay there, big guy?"

"Cold," Groot choked out.

"Like I says, dumbass, put on some pants. You have blood runnin' through ya, gotta keep yourself warm. Either that, or turn back into a stick. I can get another pot from storage."

"I don't like being immobile, Rocket," Groot replied, irritated, reaching out for Rocket. "You're… you're soft. Warm. This is so strange. I heard and understood the words before, but… its another thing entirely to put a sensation to a definition."

"Bud, stop molestin' me," Rocket protested, as Groot mussed Rocket's fur.

"Would you be mad if I became you?" Groot asked, rumbling.

"Well, it'd be a helluva lot less awkward than being manhandled by Drax," Rocket replied. "But if you're gettin' sensory overload from bein' him, you're going to go nuts as me. Ah, hell," Rocket groaned, looking up at Peter, almost pleadingly. "Is Drax up? I smell him way too close."

"I am on the other side of the curtain, Rocket, having breakfast," Drax replied, muffled, with his mouth full. "I heard Groot's pot breaking, but Gamora here stopped me. I am not sure I would like to see someone else with my own face- I have not seen one of my own kind since Ronan set my home ablaze."

"Have you…?" Peter started.

"Have I? Have I also turned into one of you? Yes. Two nights ago, when Nova was questioning us, I was extremely worried about Gamora, if they were planning on incarcerating her. My hands began to shrink and become green in color, and I felt hair growing from my scalp. I panicked, and reverted to normal," came Drax's reply, slow and deliberate between bites of food.

Groot looked down at himself, and began shrinking rapidly, browning, and hardening back into a tiny seedling with a ball of roots in lieu of feet. Rocket held out a shoulder, and Groot gripped his fur tightly, before Peter drew back the curtain.

Drax looked between the three of them, nodding. "Thank you for the courtesy."

"M' gru," Groot squeaked out.

"I'll get ya a new pot, hang on," Rocket snapped, playfully, flicking Groot's tiny head with a claw. Peter strode ahead and fished one from the hall closet, dumping some gravel for proper filtration and then topping it with soil. Rocket carefully plucked Groot off his shoulder and set him on the pot, and Groot sunk in his roots, settling in.

"So. What now?" Peter asked, sliding into a bench seat next to Drax. Rocket hopped up on the one free spot, clutching Groot's pot.

"Well. I got one question answered," Rocket said, poking Groot gently as Groot pulled back on Rocket's claw.

"Which is…?" Peter asked.

"We turn into each other as we are. Groot was covered in the same tattoos as Drax. Which means if any of us becomes Gamora or I, they'll get our enhancements too. If Groot just became Drax genetically, he shouldn't have been all marked up like that."

"I was freaking out too much when I became you to take stock of that," Peter said, nicking another piece of bread. "But that's good to know."

"I would… not be adverse to trying this on purpose, Gamora replied. "I don't think for the same reason Rocket does, however. We do actually compliment each other in a fight quite well. But our physiologies are so different, I worry if one of us becomes ill, we won't know how to properly treat it. Or if we are caught and separated, being able to become as small as Rocket or as strong as Drax or Groot would be a boon."

Peter shrugged. "I've been a con man my whole life. Once I had to pretend to be Yondu's kid on a deal, and they even gave me a fake Centurian frill- one that worked. I'm pretty sure turning into a tree isn't so weird after that. Except the whole breathing thing.

"And it seems to me as if we change unwittingly under duress," Drax added. "I'd like to understand my surroundings when this happens."

Not **_if_**, **_when_**, was the tacit understanding.

"So, who will teach first?" Gamora asked, pushing her hair from her face.

"I will," Rocket replied, quickly. "I still have vertigo from bein' Peter, and all of you are way too tall."

"Wait, you mean now?" Gamora asked, thin silver eyebrow raised.

"Are we doin' anythin' better? Maybe this'll show you how bad your ship's set up for someone my size," Rocket replied. "Gimmie a mo', I'll go make you some clothes in the 3-D printer. Rocket placed Groot's pot reverently in front of Drax, jumped off the table, and scurried down to his workshop.

"Why is he so excited?" Peter asked, as he watched the flash of brown fur barrel belowdeck.

"For the exact same reason I will probably be last," Drax replied. "There are others like him, now."

* * *

Fifteen minutes passed by, and Rocket bounded back up to the galley, armful of fabric.

"I used the same- or similar- patterns ya all put in, same materials, but my size." He tossed a pair of black pants and a turtle-necked gray shirt to Gamora, dark blue pants and a thin white sleeveless top to Drax, and a charcoal-gray long sleeve shirt, jeans, and a red hide jacket to Peter.

"These look like infant clothing," Gamora remarked, holding up her garments.

"These look freaking adorable," Peter added with a smirk. "I'm going to be the baddest 'coon in space."

"…why did you provide me with a shirt?" Drax asked.

"Because when you see your back you'll want to put one on," Rocket replied. "But… ah… if yer okay with it, ya don't need to wear it…" he finished, as he trailed off and looked down.

"I will don it, Rocket," Drax stated, gravely, lifting himself from his seat, and carrying dishes to the sanitizer.

"M goo?" Groot cooed.

"I have yours in my shop," Rocket replied. "You've never worn anythin' before, so I can help if ya need it."

"Well, I think I'm going to go loose a hundred pounds in the next five minutes," Peter joked, as he picked up the rest of the plates for the sanitizer, then picked up his tiny clothing, and went to his bunk, drawing the curtains behind him.

Gamora nodded, and went to the head in the cockpit to do the same.

"C'mon, buddy," Rocket said, hefting Groot's flowerpot. "Let's get ya changed, too."

* * *

"I'm so fluffy! I feel like a Teddy Ruxpin."

"Your hearing far exceeds my own. Is that Peter's heartbeat I hear?"

"You're even more nimble than I, Rocket. I'm impressed."

"I'm just glad to have legs."

"Hey fuzz-faces," Rocket snapped. Four sets of identical brown eyes snapped to Rocket. "First question. Sight- better or worse?"

Peter scratched his ear. "Yeah. My vision in light is way better, but your dark vision is fantastic. Also, you're red colorblind. Just an FYI. As I started to change, my jacket stopped looking red and started looking this weird orangey-greenish-brown color that I can't place."

Rocket blinked. "Huh. Well, good to know, I guess."

"Your eyesight is better than mine, all-around," Drax said. "Although not by that much."

"Mine far exceeds yours," Gamora gruffed out, still clearly unused to a near-baritone pitch.

"It's… different," Groot remarked. "Far less variation in color, but more sharpness. I'm not sure if I'd say better or worse."

"And hearing?"

"It's deafening, how well I can hear," Gamora said. "Just hearing you speak is giving me a headache."

"Same," Peter said, swishing his tail.

"Agreed," Drax added. Groot just nodded.

Rocket frowned. "Well, we're not going to get to touch or smell if hearing is setting you all in overdrive," he said, far more quietly. "Lets sit in a circle and just listen to the ship for a bit."

"Meditate?" Gamora asked.

"Whatever ya wanna call it, Rocket replied. "But you should probably get used t' it."

* * *

"Shhh… jus' listen," Rocket said, flicking Peter in the back of his fluffy head as the other three Rocket-clones sat cross-legged (Gamora), on their knees (Groot), or on their haunches like an animal (Drax).

"This is…" Peter started. "I feel kinda stupid."

"Jus' try it," Rocket replied. Peter tried making himself comfortable, and then followed Rocket's lead of curling up on the floor, ears perked.

Peter breathed in and out slowly. He was terrible at meditating, and didn't really think Rocket the type. But as he settled into the quiet, his headache lessened as he focused on the tiniest of sounds around him.

Rocket flicked his eyes between his new wards. Groot and Gamora quickly realized their posture did not work in their new form, adjusting. Peter and Drax were still, but neither moved their ears. When Gamora and Groot finally settled in, Rocket spoke up.

"So, what can everyone hear?"

"Heartbeat," Drax said. "Everyone's."

"A hissing noise," Groot piped up.

"From where?" Rocket asked.

"I don't know."

"You can turn your ears, Groot. Tilt them, and figure out where it's coming from."

Groot focused, turning his ears slowly, and then pointed towards the galley. "There."

"Nice. That's the cooling tubes in the cold storage unit."

"I can hear this weird clinking noise," Peter added. "It's coming from the back of the cargo bay I think."

"Hah. That's the FTL drive in cooldown."

"Jeez, I can't believe I can hear that."

Rocket had them sit like this for another hour, eyes closed, until the four of them had a mental picture of the ship and its quirks.

* * *

"I think it's time for food," Rocket said, after a while.

"Yeah, I'm, like, really hungry," Peter piped up. "More than I thought I'd be."

"Well, are you ready for some sensory overload? Because I'm going to teach you about my best weapon. Other than my brain, of course," Rocket said, tail swishing happily as he pointed to his head. Rocket skittered towards the galley on all fours, and jumped up to the work surface, then again to the cupboard and pulled out some small dishes. He filled five with water, and passed them down to Gamora who followed him below.

Rocket then nimbly jumped to the cold storage, and pulled out a bag of blackfruit, cutting it into wedges with lightning speed, passing a large plate of the fruit sections down to Groot.

"Table really isn't our height, let's jus' eat on the floor. N I don't want ya falln' over from oversensitivity, anyway," Rocket added.

"You think it would be that bad?" Drax asked, eyeing the fruit.

"If bein' Peter was anythin' to go by, prolly. Go 'head everyone. Pick up a slice. Examine it with yer hands."

"It's almost like I can taste it." Gamora scrunched her muzzle into a half-frown.

"Yeah, this is just as weird as when I pulled my shirt over my head," Peter commented, whiskers twitching.

"Yeah, well, wait 'till ya dip your hands in water, first." Rocket held out a paw. "Tiny whiskers on your hands, like the ones around yer nose, and they get better when they're wet."

Peter pulled a dish towards him, dipping in his fingers and flicking away the excess, before picking up his slice of fruit again.

"HOLY MOTHER OF ODIN," he shouted, dropping the fruit back on the floor and shaking out his hand like it was on fire. Slowly, he poked the fruit with a finger, eventually gripping it again. "That is freaky-ass shit right there."

Rocket shook his head. "Now you know how I feel as you. You're numb all over."

"This is going to take some getting used to," Groot creaked out, shaking his paw violently, spraying water all over his jumpsuit, identical to the ones Rocket wore but in a mossy shade of green.

"I… think I have had enough for now," Gamora added, as she jumped back away from her own dish of water, immediately regretting the decision of sticking her hand inside.

"S'all right, ya lasted way longer than I 'spected ya to," Rocket replied, gathering up the fruit sections and shoving one in his mouth. "Jus' bug me if yah wan' more practice," he added, swallowing the piece of fruit down whole. Peter tottered back to his bunk on too-short legs, and Gamora and Groot headed down to the cargo bay to help Groot out of his suit and back into his pot, Gamora carrying her oversized bundle of regular clothing in one hand, and leaning heavily into the side of the ship with the other forearm.

Drax remained on his haunches near Rocket, tail twitching lightly.

"Ya ain't goin?"

"I am also quite famished, Rocket. And I thought I ought to challenge myself until it stopped feeling as though my heart is going to burst forth from my chest cavity. If it is too much to bear, I will go as well." Drax reached out with a paw towards Rocket's crown of fur, and Rocket scooted a little closer, pushing a dish of water between them and dunked his paws, grabbing another slice of fruit.

"Somehow, this tastes so much sweeter," Drax commented, as Peter rounded back from his bunk, back to full size, hesitating a moment before patting both of them on the head.

"I'm cleaning the ship. If the vacuum noise is too loud, holler," Peter said.

"Clean…?" Rocket mumbled, before realizing that Peter had probably realized that wherever Rocket walked, he could practically taste the floor.

Yeah. Rocket could work with this.

Well, **_most of the time_**. When Gamora eventually learned how to climb in near darkness and jump on them from above, Rocket wasn't too happy. Mostly because he'd wished he had thought of it first.


	3. Everyone is Peter

A few days had passed, by extraorbital standards, and everyone on the ship practiced being Rocket more than Rocket ever anticipated.

Rocket spent most of his time not upgrading the ship or weapons systems teaching Gamora how to scent-track, rough-house with Groot, meditate with Drax, or work with Peter (Gods help Rocket) on acting like an innocent, cute animal (emote with your **_ears_**, idjit, because smiling makes you look like you're gonna bite someone's head off). Peter's sad furry orphan look actually elicited attention from the locals on Wixya the previous day, and when they'd all returned to the Milano that night, Peter proudly dumped about 8,000 worth of unit strips on the table before turning tail to change back.

"**_Please_** tell me you didn't steal or con these from people," Gamora huffed, counting the strips.

"Not a single unit, " Peter replied from the head, his voice changing back to his own mid-sentence. "I just sat on a street corner and looked as utterly helpless as possible. It helps that they couldn't tell the difference between me growling and a stomach growl."

"You conniving…" Drax started, as he looked at the pile, wide-eyed.

"I didn't force anyone, and I didn't ask. Everyone gave freely," Peter said, stepping out of the bathroom in just his pants, tiny clothing draped on his shoulder. "Seriously, we do actually need the money, and you guys know it. The first mission Nova commissioned us for isn't starting for another two weeks and the provisions they gave us are running way low."

"Still, I don't like it," Drax added. "But if people gave this to you, I have nothing else to add. This should last us until our first payment, and then some, if we are frugal."

"Da'ast," Rocket said, awestruck. "This is more than I made in a week of bounties, usually."

"m' goot," Groot piped in, leaning half out of his pot, eyes gleaming as he looked at the haul.

"Yeah, well," Peter said, shrugging. "Most people definitely recognized me as 'that little hero on the holos that shot Ronan in the face', so…"

Drax smiled. "I feel slightly less uncomfortable with the funds now."

"Heroes, huh," Rocket said, pulling out a strip and holding it up.

"Just don't make a habit of it," Gamora chided, scanning the strips for the ship's account.

* * *

That evening, while still drydocked- Peter decided to grab supplies where they were while they could, Rocket was tangled up in a nest of wire in the area above cold storage in the galley, trying to repair a broken refrigeration coil.

"Gams, get me the antifreeze, couldja?"

"Certainly," Gamora replied, walking down the galley stairs to the storage cabinet hidden underneath, to see another jumpsuited Rocket twitch his ear in indignation.

"Da'ast, I think somebody took one'a my suits. Hey, Gams, you know who? I made everyone their own clothes so people wouldn't do that."

"I… what?"

"What, what?" Rocket's tail flicked in surprise, tilting his head slightly.

Gamora blinked. This wasn't someone transformed on the ship turned into Rocket- the facial expressions, body language, vernacular- all of it was Rocket's, not Drax's tiny stomping and flat tone, Peter's sashays and flailing language, or Groot's jumpiness and awkward pauses as he contorted his mouth to speak complex words.

"Come with me," Gamora said simply, gesturing back to the upper deck.

Rocket tilted his head, ears cocked sideways, as he bounded up with Gamora. "Sure, I guess…?"

"Hey, Gams," Rocket replied from behind the storage unit, peeking his snout out of the panel he'd been body-deep in. "Found it yet? I..." Rocket trailed off as he sniffed. "Hey, who's dressed as me?"

"**_What_**…?" Rocket-from-belowdecks bellowed. "What the flarg are you talking about?"

"Uh, yeah, that's what I'd be askin' ya. I thought none'a'ya got the mind of the person you was transformin' ta, just the body." Rocket-fixing-electronics licked his hand before diving back into the machinations of the cold storage system. Gamora and Rocket-from-belowdecks stood dumbfounded.

"But… that… I…" Belowdecks stammered, confused. "Nobody else knows how to repair the ship proper-like. This ain't possible. 'Less we start becomin' more like each other the more we change…" Rocket shuddered at the thought, fur puffing out wide.

Cold Storage Rocket began laughing, a gratingly high-pitched chitter, then stopped short hearing the sound. "Guys, it's me, Peter. Gamora, I can't believe you didn't realize it for the past three hours."

"You… I…" Rocket- the real Rocket on the floor of the galley- sputtered.

"Look, you were out, the food delivery was coming in four hours, and the cold storage wasn't working. I know how to fix my own ship, but normally I'd have a hell of a time getting inside. And I stole a jumpsuit because my one set of clothes for this size," he remarked, gesturing to his fuzzy self, "is in the wash, and I had no idea how to run the replicator," Peter added flatly, grabbing a screwdriver and pliers, gripping one with his free paw and putting the other in his mouth. He spat it out inside the wiring, grabbing one more tool from the oversized box just within his grasp outside the unit. "Gamora was the one who saw my ass hanging out and started asking me questions, thinking I was actually you. I thought she'd figure something was off hours ago, but I just kept going. Just a sec'," Peter finished, as he dove back inside, grunting, followed by a few swear words and the sound of an arc of electricity. "Still need that antifreeze and it should be good to go. But it does prove a point."

"That you're a flarking a-hole?" Rocket sneered, arms crossed.

"No, that using this little skill of ours doesn't just have to be about squeezing into tight places, seeing in the dark, being relatively immune to bullets, or lifting up trucks. I thought for a long time why any of you- other than maybe Rocket for my height, but there's always Gamora or Drax for that and then some- why any of you would ever want to be me. Other than 'can hold Infinity stone for a few extra seconds without being blown to smithereens', I don't really have anything special going for me that isn't covered better by someone else among us. Okay, so I'm the best among us at lying, diplomacy, flying and shit, but those are skills I've **_learned_**, and we don't get them when we become each other. Which sucks, because I kinda wanted to be as smart as Rocket, even just for a bit. Seriously, man, you run rings around me talking about the fuel intake system," Peter commented, squirming, top half out of the unit now, paw out. Rocket softened a little at the compliment. "Look, the point I'm trying to make is this- for anybody watching the five of us, I'm clearly the weakest link, the one most likely to be captured or worse. And, no matter how much we all practice being each other, we're never going to be as good as the original. We just don't have the years of experience we've gained. But what if we switched places? What if, I dunno, Groot was me, whoever we're fighting captures him for ransom or something, and once he's inside an enemy base, he turns back and just rips things to shreds? Or Rocket, because, yeah, I'm **_starting_** to understand what all these crazy smells and sounds mean, but you'll always have the upper hand. Paw."

Gamora blinked. "That's… unusually prudent."

"Eh," Rocket shrugged. "Ya have a not-shitty-idea every once in a while." He ran downstairs in a flurry and came barreling back up with a container of antifreeze, passing it to Peter.

"Aww, an apology?" Peter asked, flicking Rocket's ear with a claw and ducking back inside the unit to finish his repairs.

"Apologize to **_me_**, ya idjit," Rocket said, sighing and shaking his head.

"Well, I ordered a PQX-186-R laser cannon that's going to need to be installed- or stripped for parts to make something custom- your choice." Peter keenly heard Rocket's low whistle of appreciation as he capped the system back up and slid himself out of the unit completely. "Can I have a hand screwing the panel back in?" he asked, pointing at the large grate at Gamora's feet. Gamora lifted it clean up, holding it in place as Rocket and Peter scurried to secure it. Rocket nodded at Peter, admiring the handiwork, and sharply kicked him in the groin, causing Peter to double over on all fours in pain, high pitched screech and all.

"That's for bein' an ass," Rocket grunted, before reaching out a hand to help him up. "And this is for fixin' the unit. I hate dealin' with coolant systems; the gunk never gets outta my fur. Let's go make some extra clothes for everyone in your size, because I'm sure you would **_hate_** **_to have someone rummagin' through yours_** to get dressed," he added sarcastically, practically dragging Peter down to the workshop. Gamora rolled her eyes and laughed, but secretly smiled. The two of them were **_adorable_**.

* * *

Gamora fiddled with the hem of her coat, trying to ignore the fact that her anatomy had now included male reproductive organs. As Rocket, it wasn't as big of a concern, an entirely new anatomy was the larger instance on her mind, and keeping sensory overload in check was often her focus as she practiced skittering through the Milano on tiny, clawed feet. Here, though, the only difference was additional height, a flatter, more muscular chest, rougher hands, less hair (on her head, at least)… and **_that_**. She realized that Drax, with his even bigger size but humanoid anatomy would likely possess something similar, sighed, and mussed her too-short hair.

Her ears felt cold.

She walked to the cargo room, feeling embarrassed and sluggish. As fast as she and Rocket were, Peter's body felt heavy and slow, with deafened hearing and muted sight. She understood why using someone- **_anyone_**\- other than Peter as a decoy for him made a lot of sense. Peter, of the five of them (as Rocket did occasionally turn into Peter himself to practice walking- Gamora supposed he preferred it to turning into her for the same reason that her being Peter made her a little uncomfortable), had the longest way to go as far as learning new skills.

Gamora realized quickly this was **_not_** the case. Peter just had a very different skill set.

"Hey, handsome," Peter joked, as he looked up from laying out a few things on the cargo bay floor. "Gamora, you really should spread your legs out a bit more when walking. Swagger. Put some weight behind it."

"How did you know I was Gamora?" she asked. "You had us all wear the same outfit."

"In the same way I know that's Rocket," Peter replied, pointing to the stairs. Another identical Peter was descending. Gamora definitely recognized the nervousness coming from Peter #3, but would never have been able to place if it were Drax, Rocket, or Groot.

"The flarg? Howdja know without me even openin' my mouth?" Rocket asked in surprise.

"Well, other than me giving you some pointers on diction, you **_act_** like you're still in your own body. Your eyes are darting around the room, sizing everything up, you're constantly craning your neck upwards, then adjusting for the fact that you don't need to look up, and, most obviously, you're walking leaning slightly backward, since you're short your tail for balance."

"Well shit," Rocket replied, flopping onto an exposed crate.

"In the same way that I doubt I'll ever be able to track an enemy by scent like you can, I'm not expecting you guys to master acting, but you at least need to pass as a swaggering asshole, me," Peter said, as he walked over and grabbed Rocket's legs, twisting them into a new seating position. "Better," Peter added. Gamora sat beside Rocket and tried to match the posture, feeling awkward for taking up so much space with her legs spread open.

More footfals from Rocket's workshop, and Peters #4 and #5 came out in unison. Peter noticed one flinch slightly near a low beam and pointed out who was Groot and who was Drax.

"Telling you two apart without you both talking is a little harder. You're both heavy, and walk with a similar stomp," Peter explained, as the final two sat down, just as awkwardly. "But Groot- you're used to being too tall for everything, even though you're not even Rocket's height right now, and you flinched when passing a low beam."

"Perceptive," Drax replied. Groot nodded in agreement.

"Like I said to Gamora and Rocket- not expecting you to be a master at mimicry. We all have our strengths. But I do need you all good enough to fool someone into thinking they actually have me. So, we're going to start with the big one- walking. Two of you stomp, one of you toddles, and one still thinks they're walking in heels. We're going to fix that. Drax, you're the closest to my stride, so I'm using you as an example. Good?"

Drax nodded, considerably less uncomfortable with being Peter than the other three, given the closeness in biology, standing up and stood t Peter's side. The sight was a mix of hilarious and just plain odd. Peter started with a few exaggerated steps before walking in stride, and Drax waited until he circled around the crates to copy. As Gamora, Groot, and Rocket felt confident, they joined the little parade in walking outside the set circle. Eventually, Peter stepped inside the crates, and observed, occasionally making remarks about posture or movement.

"Rocket, straighten your back a bit. I know I slouch a little, but you need to be a bit more comfortable walking at this height before you mimic me."

"Groot, not bad. Just hold your head up a little. You don't need to look down."

"Gamora, slow down. Imagine you're moving through caramel or molasses or a swamp."

"Drax, you need to stop stomping. Relax, man!"

And after a few minutes and a pleased nod from Peter, "Yeah, okay, not bad for a first go. Sit."

Everyone else found seats and Peter shrugged, looking between them.

"Okay, now I'm going to have all of you mock me," Peter said, smiling.

"Mock you?"

"Yeah. I want to see you all do your best impression of me."

Rocket cracked a smile and began without any other explanation. "Ooooh, lookkit me, I'm **_Star Lord_**, ruler of the universe, and the most handsome SOB in the galaxyyyyy…"

"Nice," Peter interjected.

"Wait… **_what?_**"

"You didn't slur your words. Sure, it was a mockery of everything I stand for," Peter said, puffing out his chest and adding a doofy smile, "but you were so focused on making fun of me, your diction matched mine more than when you speak. So, good. Who's going to make me look like an ass next?"

Drax snorted and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am Peter Quill," he boomed, loudly and sarcastically, a tone that took the rest of the team by surprise. "I am a bastard and an asshole and I seduce strangers just for a quick lay with complete disregard to their emotional state!"

Gamora snorted, but she did notice more emotion in Drax's voice than normal.

This might actually work.

* * *

"Waddya want, **_boy_**? And why no vid feed?"

"Well, uh, you remember how we all touched the stone? Well, all of us except Groot?"

"The tree? Yeah."

"Well, it kinda had… aftereffects."

Yondu snorted. "What, did it burn away yer pretty little face?"

"We were all inside each other's heads. While we were holding it, we were one person. It's sort of stayed like that." Peter switched on the video feed, showing Yondu four identical Peters.

"Holy mother of… well, fuck me, boy."

"One of us is real," said the second Peter, holding baby Groot's planter, as Groot cooed and curled a tendril around his finger.

"Well, we're **_all_** real. One of us is really Peter," said #3, shrugging.

"We're not stuck like this," said #1. "It's actually kinda cool. We can all turn into each other."

"Yeah, but being Rocket is weird as fuck," added #4, shuddering. "I actually wanted to clean the damn ship when I was done, everything smelled and tasted so strong."

"E-yuck," the four said in derision, #2 sticking out a tongue for good measure.

"Sounds like a'barrel a'laughs. Whaddya need me for?" Yondu rolled his eyes and sighed. Now he was **_really_** glad the containment sphere Peter had given him was fake. He was pretty sure he didn't want that kind of ability, he liked his own body just fine, thank you.

"A bet," replied #4.

"Kraglin knows which one of us is real, or will know. I sent him some encrypted data. Get it right, we send you half our paychecks from Nova for the next month," added #3.

"No shits?"

"We already pulled this stunt on Nova Prime for extra pay last week and she lost," interjected #1, as he scratched the back of his head. "Think you can do better?"

"Rules?" Yondu asked, leaning forward from his cockpit chair.

"No asking about stuff before the Infinity Stone. There's no way all of us would know everything about Peter's childhood. Unless I'm Peter and double-bluffing you, turd blossom," smirked #3.

"How original," remarked Yondu. "I ain't stupid, you're too dry and literal. You're the wrestler jerk what left five jackets on the floor of my ship, the last time you was on it. You to his left?"

"Sup?" asked #4.

"You've barely spoken."

"Yeah, so?" he said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Don't matter, you're the green one. You're shifting yer weight between yer legs like ya ain't used to bein' a man down there. Almost got me, but my eye's better than most. Which means the first two- one a' ya's the beast. This'n's tough. If I 'member, he's got just as bad a mouth as ya do, Quill. And I know how much he loves that freakin' twig a' his, so the one holdin' the pot would be the rodent, 'cept ya'd know I'd know that. So the rat's on the end."

"So you think I'm the right one?" #2 asked, as the small Groot cooed in his arms.

"Fuck no. The twig is. and yer the twig."

Rocket, Peter #1, let out a low whistle. "Damn. All five of us? You win. Seriously, we didn't even think we could turn into Groot as a sapling, but, yeah. That's Peter," Rocket said, flicking Peter-as-sapling in the head. Peter pouted and crossed his arms, but it looked far more cute than irate.

"I remember there was a twig in yer hand when holdin' the stone, saw the tail end of ya blastin' Ronan in the face and that's not somethin' ya go around forgettin'," Yondu replied, smug. "So I took a guess that ya were tryin' to screw me over. If all five a' ya were Pete, I might've been stuck guessing between the rodent and my idiot. Nice try."

Peter grinned, and mimed wrapping himself in something, and Rocket grabbed a towel and carefully pulled Peter from his pot. Peter began growing up and up, bark softening to skin, and Rocket wrapped a towel around his midsection as he returned to normal.

"Sorry. Breathing and talking as a tree are still kinda difficult," Peter said, shrugging, holding the ends of the fuzzy green bath towel on one side. "I also bet Kraglin you'd be right. He didn't think you'd get all five of us correct. So yeah, we'll send you half a month's pay, but he owes us half of his haul for two months. We're probably going to break even."

"Ya bastard," Yondu replied with a hint of pride, while Kraglin looked annoyed as he checked the file Drax sent and cursed audibly.

"Learned from the best," Peter shot back.

"Jus' do us all a favor an' put on some pants," Yondu replied. "Also, thanks for lettin' me know about that party trick."

"Don't go spreading it around," Gamora said, sternly. "You two, and only two others in Nova know about this outside of us. We showed it to you because, and I cannot believe I am saying this, we do trust you in an emergency. We'll send you our code phrases in case we ever need to contact you in cover." Gamora cracked her neck, shifting slightly. "You'll be appropriately compensated, of course. Untraceable units."

"Pleasure doin' business wit' ya," Yondu replied, signing off comms.

"Perfect, guys," Peter responded once comms were disabled. "Nice little hint, Gamora. I was wondering how you'd do it, good use of subtle body language," he added, turning to her. "And Drax, you were awesome. Until the deliberate flat voice 'slip up', you really did pull me off, and you didn't need to throw in metaphors. See? You can pretend to be me without doing wordplay. Tone works pretty well, too."

Drax smiled. "I **_am_** getting better, aren't I? Acting is actually quite enjoyable."

"Rocket and Groot, smart on the double bluff with the pot."

"Eh," Groot replied. "We know how to think like a thief."

"Anyway, that was way impressive. Nudging Yondu to the right answers without making Kraglin think we'd done it on purpose. I'm, uh, going to go get dressed, now. Good work, everyone," Peter finished, as he turned on his heel and went back to his bunk.

* * *

"Hey, hairless," Peter's voice came from the other side of the curtain. Peter recognized it as Rocket still in Peter's form, and slid the curtain back, his pants thankfully on and a shirt halfway over his head.

"I, ah," Rocket started. "I found out the other day that things taste a lot stronger as a humy. I kinda wanted to grab food and a couple a' beers, planetside, 'n Groot needs time to grow the long way 'round in his pot."

"Drinking buddy?" Peter asked, as he pulled the grey shirt over his head.

"…yeah? Somethin' like."

"I don't want people to see two of me," Peter replied.

"I'm less mass and will prob'ly get drunk faster than you," Rocket replied.

Peter rolled the curtain back over his bunk with a swift motion and Rocket heard the sounds of clothing flapping around. In short order, Peter crawled out from under his bunk as Rocket, shifting in a stiff blue jumpsuit- it made more sense to wear than nearly-matching jeans, tee, and jacket to Rocket.

Rocket bent over, and locked the weapon holster on Peter's back in place, and offered an arm for a ride into town for the evening.

It was probably the closest mutual apology they would give to each other.


	4. Everyone is Gamora

Stuck in a transfer in St Louis, so here's the chapter I was editing.

* * *

"Raise ten," Groot said, as he flicked a chip into his betting pile. He scratched at his/Peter's stubble at his chin and sighed at his cards. He had a much better poker face as his own wooden self, and he could just mime or hold up chips so Rocket wouldn't need to constantly translate, but he was only toddler sized now; no bar was letting him in without ID for age when he sounded like an infant. He'd have to win off his own cards (luck) and reading those around him (very much not luck, and a skill he'd improved considerably under Peter's acting lessons).

Rocket was off _**somewhere**_ negotiating electronics to mod the ship, so the furball at the bar was the real Peter. Gamora slid up next to him and ordered something, and Drax? Groot didn't see Drax. He thought Gamora had guard duty back at the ship tonight, but he guessed they'd switched.

"Hey, Xandarian, hey." Groot looked back to the table. "Your move."

Groot's eyes quickly darted between the remaining players and their betting piles. Two others were still in the hand; one Krylonian had bet small and the oversized Badoon to his right had put out a large bet. Groot flicked his eyes between the table and his own hand, and calculated that the Badoon was stupid, but probably wasn't bluffing, flipping his own cards face down on the table and leaving the fight between the Badoon and the older Krylonian woman two to his left, flicking his eyes back to the bar where 'Rocket' and Gamora were chatting.

Rocket had ordered a dark ale and Gamora a beer.

Ah, Groot realized with a small inward smile. Gamora _**was**_ still on ship watching duty. The Rocket and Gamora that Groot saw were really _**Drax**_ and _**Peter**_, in that order.

The whole genders/sex thing that had made the other four uncomfortable didn't really bother Groot. Drax, Peter, and Rocket just had an extra tendril that was both quite fragile and intended for toxin removal and reproduction. Why both bodily functions came from the same protrusion, Groot didn't understand. His bark served the former purpose, his flowers the latter. Whatever sick joke genetics played on mammals, he'd never been privy to, but he figured from their conversation that Gamora did not have the same anatomical structures as the other three, and it made all of them a little awkward, dancing around the issue in the same way Peter danced around his ship.

Groot went back to his cards. It was a tournament with a set buy-in, so he wasn't concerned about blowing away their money; he'd spent what the others were on drinks on his own fun for the evening, but that didn't mean he wanted to let the prize money slip from his fingers.

By the way the rest of the table kept flicking their own eyes back towards where Drax and Peter were sitting, Groot wondered if he should have been Gamora for the evening, but the Krylonian was by far the best player at the table and she seemed to find Peter's face attractive.

One on his side. He figured how to force the other three to let their own guards down.

Peter. That would work.

"Gamora?" Groot called out, sipping from his glass of carbonated water.

"Need something, Quill?" he asked back, walking, no, sauntering, cycling his legs in his heeled boots as if he'd always worn a pair.

"That _**your**_ girlfriend?" asked the Badoon, spitting his drink.

Groot suppressed a grin. "You _**crazy**_? She's way out of my league. Just friends." He'd gotten the best at mimicking Peter, but not by nearly as wide a margin as he anticipated. Even Drax was becoming a halfway decent actor.

"Don't tell me she's with the plush toy," grunted a Skrull, playing with his stack of chips. Groot considered the irony of the Skrull in his real state and Groot transformed, but at least on Knowhere, Skrull who renounced their warrior-leader were provided a safe haven, the four-legged security chief that Rocket couldn't stand and Tivan (of all people) saw to it. Groot knew all too well about growing up with different ideas than the rest of his own tribe, and made sure to treat Skrulls on Knowhere or anywhere in space where they were willing to show their real faces with as much respect as possible.

The rest of 'em could fuck themselves, though.

"I'm not with anyone, _**gentlemen**_," Peter replied, flicking his long hair back and leaning into a hip. Peter's level of teasing out small body language differences was astoundingly good. "What can I do for you?"

"No cheats, or Xandar boy here's out," screeched the Centurain running the tourney.

"I was just going to offer the next round of drinks on me," Groot replied.

"So you mean on me," Peter said, fiddling with his hair a bit. "Seeing as I'm the one among us covering the tab."

Drinks were shouted out quickly, and Groot tipped his near empty glass of soda to 'Gamora' to request a refill, and Peter walked back to the bar, rear end cycling in a motion that Groot was sure every man and most of the women watched in awe.

Groot wasn't going to cheat; he only had 50 credits down, which was a night of drinking between him and Rocket, easily chalked up as fun money.

He was still going to distract the hell out of his opponents, though.

* * *

"Well?" Gamora asked, as Peter, Drax, and Groot returned to the ship, net positive 1,000 units.

"Watching you walk in heels and actually wearing them are two different things. Even with the gel inserts, _**ow**_," Peter said, flicking his hair back and sitting in the galley, unzipping his black boots. Groot should have recognized it earlier. Gamora enjoyed wearing more revealing clothing, and Peter's shirt, while definitely accentuating the mammary, given the reactions at the bar, covered higher than what Gamora usually chose for herself.

"Also, guys are skeevy and I never want to be hit on like that again," Peter added, flexing his toes and cracking his back, shuddering at the thought. "At least you're strong enough to knock someone flat if they're really giving you problems, but I worry for the regular girl out there."

"The hunter became the hunted," Drax remarked, skittering up the cold storage to grab a water vessel to curb off the impending dehydration.

"Hey, if a girl- well, if _**anyone**_\- says 'no', I back the hell off. You get hit on by someone physically stronger than you _**one time**_," Peter added, seemingly from experience, "and you learn how to respond. I just wasn't used to the _**frequency**_ of lame pickup lines. And the shows of aggression when I turned them down. Yuck."

The hatch beeped, and an automated loading crate followed behind Rocket, gently depositing about twenty small boxes and two large ones on the floor before scooting out of the ship.

Rocket looked up at the two Gamoras, Peter, and Rocket sitting around the galley and cursed under his breath.

"'M I gonna need to play the 'who's everyone pretendin' to be tonight' game?" he sighed, shaking his head. "Look, some of this stuff is oxy-fragile, so would the _**real**_ Peter 'n Groot help me install the FTL parts before we all crash for the night?"

Groot and Peter stood up to assist.

"Whoah, bud. Ya look good in green," Rocket joked to who he thought was his best friend and companion, turning behind him and lifting the largest crate with one arm.

Peter-faced-Groot, however, had waited for this moment, lifting a box and proudly proclaimed:

"_**I**_ am Groot."

"Fuck me."

* * *

"Xandar?" Drax asked, looking at the coordinates Gamora was setting.

"Xandar," she replied, finishing her preflight checks, before turning to face Drax. "Did you try on the clothing Rocket made for you?"

"Not… not yet," Drax answered, hesitantly. "The idea still does not sit well with me, though I'm unsure as to why. Possibly it is seeing you unclothed?"

Gamora glanced sideways. "I have long since come to terms with my dignity, Drax. Here, as I know at least Groot and Peter have already tried becoming me," Gamora added, unbuckling the straps on her corset and pulling it clean off.

Drax bit his lip awkwardly. "I am not sure where I should be looking."

"Go and _**change**_, Drax. It is only my body. And, like Rocket, I have some augmentations you will need to accustom yourself to. Unless you have had a HUD installed in your left eye as well?"

Logically outmaneuvered, Drax descended the stairs to his quarters. Gamora looked at her unbuckled corset on the floor, shrugged her shoulders, and plopped herself topless into the captain's chair, feet up on the free space on the dashboard, stretching out her upper body and keeping an eye on the instrumentation. Eventually, she heard the center head unlock, and a Gamora- Peter, by the red tank top and denim pants, unless they had switched outfits- stepped out to the bridge.

"Whoa. Drax, buddy, put on a shirt- or at least a sports bra or something. I like the view as much as the next person, but seriously. Not cool." Definitely Peter.

"I do not feel like it," Gamora replied derisively, realizing after she spoke she actually pulled off a decent Drax impression. "Plus, it is uncomfortable, and the only people who are going to see us for the next three hours are each other."

"Gamora is gonna _**kill**_ you, though, you know that, right?"

* * *

It was 2AM local time when the Milano landed; five Gamoras huddled in the cockpit for touchdown on a Nova base. Dey himself greeted them at exit, bleary eyed and blinking back and forth between.

"What, do we need name tags for ya?" Rocket joked.

"I get used to you all, and then you pull something like this on me. I can't win. I give up. Look, it's a national holiday tomorrow so the facility is closed. Security cams are off; the whole place is yours for 26 hours. Who's in charge of keys and cleanup?"

"Me," Groot said, holding out his slender, green hand.

"Well, Gamora, Gamora, Gamora, Gamora, and, uh, Star-Prince," Peter rolled his eyes, and Dey made a small victory pump with his fist, presumably from guessing which one was him, "have fun, don't break anything, and call me if you need me. I'm going to bed."

"Will do," Peter replied, clipping him on the back with a grin.

"Seriously. Creepy," Dey replied, shrugging off the arm and twisting it into a handshake. "Best of luck, though. You're a bigger man than me," he added, "Well, metaphorically speaking." Dey gave the five a lopsided salute and sauntered back to his groundcar.

"Well," Gamora said, facing the other four. "Time for training."

* * *

Drax pressed his back to the ramshackle wall, gun in hand and a knife at his hip. He breathing was shallow and quiet, he could see through Gamora's own built in HUD some flecks of infrared scattered nearby. His left had a smoking crater from the shot that skittered too close. Getting used to these signals was not nearly as taxing as Rocket's, but it was still unusual to have a data feed built directly into his eye. He could sense someone coming closer, whispering into the comms, "Peter?"

"I'm fifty meters behind you, man," he heard back, in Gamora's timbre, followed by a scream. Peter was down.

Fuck. Drax wanted to _**win**_.

Drax heard rustling, and flicked his knife, plunging the blue beam emanating into it into another Gamora's throat. S/he was down, or would have been, if Groot, as Drax now realized by the brown jacket this Gamora wore, played along with faking being murdered like Peter and Rocket had done throughout the night. Instead, Groot simply saluted, shrugged, and sat.

It was just between Drax and Rocket now- Peter and Drax were tied three-for-three in the combat simulator with Rocket and Groot, and they'd bet the losers had to give massages to the winners.  
Drax wasn't even sure how the heck he'd relax a tree. Aromatherapy? And he really needed someone to crack his back, too.

Drax hissed at Groot, "You are deceased. clear off the field; Peter has done so and you remaining is an unfair advantage to Rocket."

Groot nodded sagely, and hopped up on some exposed beams, jumping between poles and out of sight.

Drax focused on the infrared signals, noting heat sources around him in near darkness; he focused to try and figure out which remaining signature was a living body and which were heat vents and other forms of environmental hazards on the field. Rocket had an advantage; he was already a nimble climber, and used to working with sound and under low light conditions. Groot was the weakest by comparison, making the two teams, which Gamora oversaw from a clear fiberglass referee box somewhere overhead, fairly even overall.

Rocket may be nimble, intelligent, and more used to the sensory inputs, but his normal height was his largest flaw. Several times, he made jumps he could not actually complete due to misjudging foothold sizes, and his depth perception as Gamora was quite different than as himself, making his shots far less accurate than normal. And he had little experience with blades.

If Drax could get in close, he would win for sure.

Drax took a risk, exposing himself by climbing a stack of metal cargo crates, to better pinpoint if the heat signature he believed was Rocket's to be correct, and strike from above. The HUD was not perfect, having trouble picking up signatures from on high. Gamora must compensate with her real senses, but Rocket and Drax had not yet had the experience in combat that she possessed, making a jump onto Rocket Drax's only advantage.

He held his breath, leaned over the crates.

It was a twenty-meter drop down to Rocket. Could he do it without injury? He knew his own body might break a bone, but he could walk away from a jump of that height. He looked above him, Gamora, Peter and Groot in the box overhead, and down at Rocket, checking the scope on his gun and properly calibrating something in his internal display by the flurry of hand movements on the side of his face. Gamora watched intently, and Drax pointed down at Rocket, pretending to jump, but catching himself, looking up at Gamora for approval. She blinked twice; she'd promised not to interfere. Peter said something to her; the glass was soundproof.

And then Gamora looked down at Drax, nodding.

Drax bit his lower lip to prevent a scream or biting off his tongue, and drew his weapon, jumping.

_**BZZZZZT**_

"Holy mother of fucking hell," cried Rocket, from under Drax. "Thank Gods we are both Gamora because you _**could have fucking murdered me for real, asshole**_!"

"I did get permission first," Drax replied innocently, peeling himself off, holding out one soft green hand to another.

"Not from me you didn't!" Rocket protested, as Drax sheathed the laser knife, slinging Rocket over his shoulders, bridal style.

"And I expect you to turn into someone else for our bet. I am sure neither Peter nor I wish to be clawed."

"We said massage, not five-star Taspis spa level," Rocket whined, as he was dumped unceremoniously in the mess hall for a snack after training. "And we still have the obstacle course and a few other competitions, blockhead. We can still win."

"Like hell you will," Peter said, sliding into a seat across. "My shoulders are killing me and as captain of our ship, I'm winning. And I expect the works."

"Boys," Gamora replied, rolling her eyes. Of course these idiots would be fighting over a spa day while she was trying to have a serious lesson.

* * *

Drax and Peter did end up winning the bet, leading to an irate Rocket sitting irritably on Peter's lower back like a fuzzy hot stone while he carefully kneaded out the kinks on Peter's shoulders, grumbling the whole while.

"needs to take better care a' himself…" Rocket mumbled, "'parrently someone's never heard a' stretchin' to prevent muscle strain or summat…"

Meanwhile, Groot, a small but dense toddler, was using his vines to contort Drax's arm behind his back, carefully stretching his triceps without pulling too hard in any one spot. Rocket finished with Peter, hopping off, but Drax caught him by the torso as he turned to descent the stairs. An annoyed whine escaped Rocket's lips, but Drax quickly shushed him.

"Peter is not the only one who has an ill-suited post workout routine," he chided, pulling Rocket into his lap as he ran a massive hand down Rocket's exposed backside. Rocket was slowly, slowly becoming less self conscious over his back's scarring and exposed plugs, mainly because he knew everyone else could see them anytime they turned into him. Rokcet's tail stiffened at Drax's touch, but quickly relaxed, swishing gently s Drax's giant but nimble fingers worked on Rocket's muscles.

The only sounds were a low rumble from Rocket that was absolutely, certainly not purring, and the occasional 'pop' as Groot cracked another muscle. Eventually, Peter stretched and sat up on the couch in the common space, beckoning Gamora, who was watching the scene with disinterest while reading from a data pad, to come over.

"You've won your bet," Gamora said simply.

"No, no, c'mon," Peter replied. You just jumped through as many hoops as us. Lay down, chill! I've gotcha."

Gamora rolled her eyes, slid off her shirt and laid prostrate on the couch. Peter's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

"Holy," he sputtered.

"Oh, come now, _**Star Lord**_," she joked, throwing a pillow at his face for good measure. It isn't as though you have never seen this before."


	5. Everyone is Groot

"Sheish man, how long you really gonna keep this up?" Rocket grunted, looking at Peter in awe, as Peter stepped out of the head, washcloth around his waist as he shook water from his fur. Two weeks straight, Peter had stayed as Rocket, as he tried to see the limits of their power.

Peter shrugged. "Figured I'd cover our bases, and I'm not asking anyone else to experiment. Hey, can you cook me up something to wear? Everything's in the wash."

"Am I going to need t' make full wardrobes for everybody?" Rocket asked. "We don't have infinite storage space, y'know."

"Yeah, but I'm also not going to wear the same three things until they smell like crap."

"I don't sweat, 'cept from my paws, that really shouldn't be a problem 'less you're gettin' greasy doin' repairs."

"Musk, why do you think I'm bathing every day? **_You_** don't smell this bad."

"Wait, that's YOU?" Rocket said, startled. "I thought it was Drax. Or, I effing HOPED it was Drax."

"Why, is that a problem?" Peter asked, worried.

"Problem? Not x'actly. Awkward as **_hell_**, though. Fact that you've been bathing instead 'a groomin' yourself been throwin' me off. Gimmie a mo'," Rocket said, sniffing the air, before getting within a centimeter of the side of Peter's fuzzy face and taking a whiff.

"Am I sick?" Peter asked.

"More like **_love_**sick," Rocket replied. "You're effing **_rutting_**."

"I'm what?"

Rocket smacked his face with his paw. "I don't get all hot under the collar like ya do, Star-Dork. I don't even care about- ahem- personal needs most a' the time," Rocket added, visibly embarrassed about discussing his intimate life- or lack thereof. "Every couple a' months, though… my, uh, body start's thinkin' fore my mind does. You're hitting my matin' cycle, ya dumbass. Go turn back into a humy already."

"Eh," Peter said shrugging, "I'll just go back to my room and-"

"**_GODS DAMN IT QUILL, NO_**."

"But when I was Gamora-"

"When you were me, what?" Gamora questioned, entering the hallway, arms crossed over her chest. "I'm curious."

"FUCK!" Quill screamed, throwing his hands in the air, dropping the towel as he fled to somewhere, anywhere else on the ship, dripping water and skittering down the hall on all fours.

* * *

"Uh," Peter said at dinner, awkwardly fiddling with the hem on his shirt, now back to his old self. "So, um. I learned a few things today."

"Personal dignity?" Drax asked.

"Respect for your crewmates?" Gamora added sarcastically, flicking Peter's ear.

"Alien biology?" piped in a smirking Rocket.

"I am Groot?" Groot asked, now about Rocket's size, hugging Rocket in a booster chair and messing with his fur. Rocket only slightly protested.

"Well, yes, all those things."

"So ya **_are_** a loser wit' no impulse control," Rocket smirked. "Good t' have that on file."

"Groot, is that actually what you said?" Peter asked in mock accusation. Groot nodded energetically.

"All right, look, I'll come clean," Rocket said, looking down, his ears folding over in embarrassment. "I don' get urges like ya humys do 'cept in a rut. So, uh, yeah, when I was Peter, I uh…"

"I am Groot."

"Hey, I know they're just bodily functions, but it's personal!" Rocket protested.

"I am Groot."

Rocket looked like he wanted to curl into a ball and hide somewhere far away.

"Let's just get this out in the air. Who is offended if their body is explored by someone else? Hands up," Gamora asked sternly.

No one raised their hands.

"I'm already a slut, I've got nothing to say without being a hypocrite," Peter replied, shrugging. "Plus, it's not me. I'm not going to stop someone else from doing something."

"Eh, fuck it," Rocket replied, before realizing his entendre.

"Okay. Good. Who here **_has_**? By themselves or with someone else?" Gamora added.

Peter and Rocket embarrassingly raised their hands, and looked to their left and right. Both Drax and Gamora also lifted their hands from their places.

"Are we done with this?" Gamora asked, sighing. "All of us are adults. What someone else does with their body is none of my business unless they make it my business. Good?"

Peter blinked, stunned.

"Well, then, Peter, what have you learned?" Gamora asked, turning back to Peter.

"Okay, one, we get **_all_** bodily functions. Which means if we are Gamora, we might get a period. If anyone has some weird anatomical things that are a problem, might want to just say it now."

"Yes, I get periods," Gamora said. "About ten times per Xandarian year. Usually lasts three days, sometimes four. Not much other than bleeding, I do not get mood swings like Xandarian or Krylonian women."

"I rut," Rocket grunted, still embarrassed. "Two or three times per Xandarian year. Lasts about two weeks straight. Shouldn't affect ya too much, but…"

"As do I," Drax added. "About once or twice a year. My honest suggestion is to immediately change back if you can. I know how to handle it; you will not. The hormone levels in my system I can handle as an adult, but teenagers of my people are frighteningly violent until they are used to it."

"I am Groot," Groot added, looking back and forth at the table, before holding up a finger and toddling back to the cabins.

"He'd rather explain himself," Rocket translated. "He also said start eating. There was something we've both been wanting to try."

"What would that be?"

"Ya know how Peter's turned into Groot as both an adult and a child?"

"If you're suggesting that we can turn into ourselves as kids, or just younger, nope. Tried it, didn't work," Peter replied. "Other than Groot, I mean. Maybe it's his biology?"

"Groot can't turn into his adult self," Rocket commented, brandishing his spork. "He would'a done that a long time ago if he could. But he turned in'ta me."

"You? As a child?" Drax said, puzzled.

"Yeah, how? I couldn't," Peter replied.

"'Cause ya didn't know exactly what I looked like," Rocket replied. "We can't turn into other versions of ourselves, seems like, but we can be each other from any point on our timeline t' date. I've been Groot at all stages a' maturity 'cept old age. I can't turn inta him past where he's been."

"Why have you not spoken up before?" Drax asked, curiously.

"We've been waitin' till we had a decent theory as t' what was goin' on, or I'd've said somethin' sooner. Groot just turned inta me as a kid this mornin'. I swiped my files 'fore I fled Halfworld, and after Groot saw 'em he could turn inta me, even me from… before. His mind's still innit, but he can't talk or anything. But, on the plus side, they did so much work on me that Groot **_didn't trip the bio-database when we fingerprinted or retina scanned 'im_**."

"So what is Groot doing down there?"

"We asked Yondu for a holo or two of ya as a kid. If he sent 'em, he's gonna try bein' ya."

"No response yet, Rocket," came Rocket's voice from the stairwell, as Groot bounded up and squirmed back in the bench seat next to Rocket, twin fuzzy faces starting out at the rest of the group. "But I suspect it would work. I'm guessing the other thing Peter learned from his stunt is that we don't seem to have a time limit, do we?"

"If we do have one, it's more than two weeks," Peter replied.

"I wonder if we stayed as each other for long periods- very long periods- if we would age," Groot pondered thoughtfully.

"Ourselves, or whomever we became?" asked Gamora. "If we didn't…"

"We would be functionally immortal," Drax finished. "Or if we did age, if we could just turn into someone else, younger. We can switch between without becoming ourselves first."

"I am already functionally immortal," Groot interjected.

Rocket growled.

"**_To a point_**," he added, giving Rocket a light squeeze.

"Speaking of," Gamora said. "Peter and Rocket have already tried turning into you a few times. Would you mind teaching us?"

"I'm happy to, but I'm going to have to do it one at a time. And none of you will be able to speak, or comprehend my words."

"Yeah," Peter interjected. "I couldn't even say 'I am Groot'. Your throat is hard as a rock."

"Which is why I rarely talk. Our method of communication is a series of intertwined whistles by forcing air through small holes in our vines. The phrase itself is for everyone else's convenience to know I'm trying to speak. I emote what I can.

Anyway, I'm not sure I can effectively teach you how to speak, and only Rocket here can hear it, let alone understand. I suppose I could just talk you all through in someone else's form, or I can have Rocket translate and be myself. Either way, as both Rocket and Peter have discovered, my anatomy is the furthest from any of yours."

"Given the situation," Drax said thoughtfully, "it is probably best that you teach us how to breathe, how to grow thorns and protrusions, and how to release your light spores. I do not think concerning ourselves with how to fight as you or do anything too taxing will be in anyone's best interest. At least for now. I think we have all gotten quite used to being Gamora, Peter, and Rocket, but you are very different."

"I would agree," Gamora said. "Although four full sized Groots won't fit in the ship comfortably."

"I know of a few planets with no higher life that are well vegetated," Groot replied. "That would be a good place to train."

* * *

Groot, still in Rocket's form, twitched his tail lightly and waited at Drax's cabin door.

"Peter and Rocket changed and are outside, and I've just instructed Gamora on breathing, so she'll be out of the ship as soon as she has her bearings. You're last."

"I am ready as I will ever be," Drax replied, opening the door. He was naked, his clothes folded neatly on his bunk.

"Change into me," Groot commanded, gently. "I'll walk you through how to respire." Drax's skin hardened, his form stretched and flattened and thickened as he melted into Groot, panicking.

"You're going to loose your lungs, Drax. It's okay. You don't need them. You feel that buildup of gas? Push it out of your back."

A cloud of yellow pollen bombed the wall behind Drax, as he let out a large bubble of air.

"That's the equivalent of you holding your breath," Groot chided. "Don't feel like you breathe in and out. The air will move continuously. You've got this. Come on," he added, encouragingly.

Drax expelled another blast of pollen, smaller this time. Groot climbed Drax halfway, putting his face to Drax's exposed upper back.

"Good, just let it flow," he said, feeling a light breeze at his whiskers, pollen no longer puffing out. "How are you feeling?"

Drax raised a massive arm, slowly, making a wiggly noncommittal hand gesture.

"Better than Rocket the first time," Groot commented, beaming. "Take your time, okay? You hear through vibrations now, and all of your senses are mine- warped and different from a mammal's. Take stock of your surroundings, and when you're ready, leave the ship."

Groot took a small device from his pocket, securing it to Drax's wrist.

"It's a buzzer. If there's a problem, just press. Everyone's is a different sound so I can come right away. And don't hesitate to change back if you're overwhelmed."

Drax carefully arranged his giant fingers into a thumb's up, and Groot skittered out of the room.

The minute the door was shut behind him, Drax slumped against a wall, reeling. Being Peter and Gamora had been relatively easy, the skill came in being able to mimic them. Rocket had been hard, but Drax had gotten quite comfortable with the size, skill, and sensory imput, even the unbelievably precise sense of touch.

Groot was impossible. Even his **_sight_** was alien. Colors he'd never seen before, extreme clarity of some objects and near-pixilation of others. Drax sat breathing- **_respirating_**\- as he slowly allowed the room he'd become familiar with coalesce around him.

* * *

Groot barreled out to Peter and Rocket, both towering over him outside. Rocket ticked away gingerly on Groot's data pad, holding it up when done.

'HOW LONG?'

"Three, maybe four hours I'd guess, we can practice growing spores while we wait. Both of them are slumped in the ship, Gamora in the galley and Drax in his room."

'HOW BAD?'

"They both look as if they've ingested psychedelics. Glazed over, sitting still, just trying to make sense of their surroundings. Similar to your reaction the first few times."

'YOUR EYESIGHT IS TRIPPY.'

"In comparison to yours, probably."

Peter snatched away the pad, fumbling with it with his now-oversized fingers.

'SERIOUSLY IMPRESSED. HOW THE FUCK DO YOU NOT GO INSANE AS US?'

Groot just shrugged. "As you've noticed, severe dysmorphia is part of my species. I grow and shrink, and regrow limbs at a rapid rate. Changing my perception on the world isn't that much of a stretch, really."

Peter simply shook his giant head, awaiting instruction.

* * *

"Everyone okay? More or less?" Groot asked, this time as Peter as the other four Guardians sat in the galley in varying states of disarray. Only Peter seemed decent, playing with one of the bioluminescent spores he'd managed to excrete as Groot. Then again, he had the most practice prior. Rocket was actually sitting in Gamora's lap, accepting head scratches as Gamora breathed deeply, eyes closed. Drax was curled into a corner wrapped in only a shock blanket- the best he could, given his size- hooked up to an emergency oxygen tank, a quiet rise and fall to his chest as he gained composure. He'd pushed himself just a bit too far, clumps of spores still stuck to his skin, glowing faintly

"How long do these last?" Peter asked, bouncing the puff off his fingertip.

"Two hours or so?" Groot replied, fixing warm cider and small bowls of plain yoghurt for the team, carefully passing out mugs and bowls to Peter and Gamora. Rocket slowly sat up and stretched; he was too exhausted to protest Groot spoon-feeding him. He couldn't even grasp a bowl without it almost sliding out of his fingers. Groot brought a mug and bowl over to Drax, tapping his shoulder lightly.

"Mph," Drax grunted.

"You should eat," Groot chided. "If I can make Rocket eat, I can make you, too. I have sugar, and protein."

Drax blinked, taking stock of his surroundings. "Maybe I should not have rushed so."

"I think everyone overdid it, Drax. Just give it time." Groot held out a mug, and Drax tried lifting his arms to accept. No luck, they felt like stone.

"Tip your head back, if you can. I had to feed Rocket more often than he is willing to admit, I promise I won't spill."

The galley was quiet that night, as the spores became dimmer, everyone drifting off to sleep.

* * *

Peter cracked an eye open, scanning. Rocket's purr-snore was to his left, and light breathing close by. Gamora. Grunting from the ground, Drax. Peter saw a blue haze beyond the divider curtain, and got up to look. Groot, still wearing Peter's face, was scrunched in concentration, setting up a holocall. Peter pressed his back from view, and watched as the call was answered.

"Whatcha need now, boy?"

"Hey, Rocket sent a request for any recordings you have of me as a kid."

Peter cracked a small grin. He couldn't see Groot's face, but the intonation was spot on.

"Yeah, and? Whatcha need it for?"

"I need to show them what I looked like as a kid."

"Party trick?" Yondu asked, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah," Groot replied after a beat of silence.

"I'll find somethin'. I know I have a few. How young we talkin'? Eight? Ten? Fifteen?"

"I'll take whatever you have, honestly."

"Oh, boy, did you see that vid I sent'cha? You and yours better watch your back. Buncha hardline Kree have put out a reward for capture. Big, biggest on you, smaller on the rest of ya. Not an official bounty, mind, none'a the governments would ever accept that as legal bounty after that stupid-ass stunt on Xandar, but, they'd pay out.

"Want to make it an inside job?" Peter finally said, stepping out of his corner."

"Ah, what the hell. You the rodent?"

"**_I'm _**Peter. **_You've_** been conversing with a tree."

"Well fuck me ten ways to Sunday. Good job, shrub," Yondu said, addressing Groot, before turning his attention back to Peter. "Inside job, huh? Whatcha got in mind, boy?"

"You, really rich. Us, taking down some radicals."

"I know youse gone soft, boy, but ya don't do charity. What's in it for ya?"

"Other than preventing being murdered a few months from now? Shipping them off to Nova for a stack of units, duh. You get the bounty for turning some of us in; we get those guys to Nova for a reward. Everyone wins. So how much is on each of us?"

"You, boy? 150,000. The rodent and Thanos's girl are 70,000 apiece. Muscles is 40,000. Guess they don't care 'bout him as much."

"What about Groot?"

"Nothin'. They probably don't know he regenerated."

"We can work with that. How would you like to make just shy of 300K?"

"My birthday is commin' up boy."

"Well, let me talk with my team. I have a vague idea of a plan, but I'd like to pass it by someone smarter than me."

"More or less than 12%?" Groot piped in.

Yondu laughed. "I like the shrub. Good idea keepin' 'im."


	6. Everyone is Drax

"Well," Drax said at breakfast the following morning, which Groot was haphazardly preparing as Gamora. Her HUD connected to the 'net, providing a recipe for quiche he wanted to try.

"Well?" Rocket asked, as he skittered to the counter alongside Groot, pulling some fruit from the cold storage unit.

"I may as well teach you all some brawling skills. I think I'm going to avoid transforming myself for a little while yet, anyway."

"You sure, big guy?" Peter asked, clipping Drax on the back as he rounded to the juicer, swiping some blackfruit from Rocket's hoard.

"I could go another round as Groot, but, if you're willing to teach, I am willing to learn," chipped in Gamora, who was doing the sensible thing and pulling down plates and glasses for everyone. Without her, some of them- cough, Rocket, cough- would, and had, just eat from the table or floor.

"There's one more thing I want to try," Peter replied. "Or, actually, ask Groot to, because if it goes wrong, he won't be injured."

"What's that?" Rocket asked, ears perking and tail uncurling in curiosity. Peter kept a closer eye on Rocket in particular, his body language so much different than everyone elses's, even Groot's. "Testing out our kid theory? When I woke up this mornin', I got six holos from Yondu we could use for study."

"Well, that, sure, but what happens if we get hurt? Like **_really_** hurt. Break a bone or lose a limb injured."

"You're not chopping off Groot's arm, Quill," Rocket replied with a growl. "Don't care if it can grow back, that's just a dick move. Also I sure as hell ain't moppin' up blood."

"But what about a broken bone? Groot doesn't have bones."

"This is fine," Groot said after a moment. "I am going to need to know what pain feels like, anyway. Best do it here where we have access to medicine."

"Ya sure, big lug?" Rocket asked, incredulously.

"If I fight as any of you, I'd rather be prepared for the inevitable," Groot replied, pulling breakfast from the cooking unit, sniffing.

"Is this supposed to smell like this?" he added.

* * *

After eating and cleaning up, all four other Guardians sat or squatted around Groot, bandages, splints, pain medication, and whatever they thought might be needed from the med kit. Drax cut a wedge out of an unripe blackfruit, handing it to Groot.

"Put this in your mouth and bite hard," he instructed. "You will bite your tongue otherwise."

Gamora put a hand on Groot's shoulder. "I have pain dampeners. It will hurt, yes, but not as badly as if you were one of the others. If this is too much now, remember it will be worse if you are injured in another form."

Groot nodded, shoving the piece of stiff fruit into his mouth, biting hard and bracing himself, digging green nails into the sofa.

"Loosen one arm, please," Drax commanded, and Groot let his left arm go limp. Drax held it between his massive hands.

"I will count down from five."

"Wait," Rocket warned. "Take off your clothes first. Unless ya want to both ruin 'n be constricted by 'em. Ya may be shorter than Gams right now, but ya wider around than she is."

Groot nodded, and slipped off the loose Xandarian style dress, flat shoes, and undergarments, kicking them aside, before resettling into position, now more nervous than before.

"Ready?" Drax asked. Groot nodded

"Five, four…" Drax started, pulling sharply on Groot's wrist and elbow before ever hitting three.

**_Crack_**! Rocket shuddered in commiseration.

Groot was very glad for the piece of fruit in his mouth and the realization that even with Gamora's mods, he didn't like pain one bit. Drax quickly ran a finger along Groot's left arm and Groot winced.

"Yes, the bone is very much broken. Transform into yourself."

Groot did not need to be told twice, shrinking and thickening, skin hardening to bark. The pain dissipated quicker than expected, and Groot spit the blackfruit slice on the ground as he felt his own teeth replacing Gamora's.

"I am Groot," he proclaimed, three feet of wood and bark, flexing his left arm. Rocket, who had somehow curled himself into a tight ball, peeked out, breathing a sigh of relief.

"All good," Rocket translated. "Not even a loose vine or splinters in'im."

"I am Groot," Groot added, as he began to grow and thin, turning back to Gamora.

"He wants to see if the bone is still broken," Rocket helpfully supplied.

"Seems not," Groot added, as he finished, flexing his fingers and quickly putting clothes back on.

"There is no rush," Gamora said, noting Groot's haphazard speed in dressing. "You have nothing to be ashamed of."

Groot shrugged. "I'm **_cold_**."

* * *

"No wonder you don't wear shirts," Rocket rumbled as he stomped around in a pair of loose workout pants back outside the ship. "You're like a furnace."

"Your fur is quite thick and warm yourself, Rocket," Drax replied, sizing everyone up. He bounced his feet against the slightly spongy ground underneath. The planet and landing site Groot had picked for their practice the day before was also quite suitable for sparring. "And yet you still insist on covering your torso."

"Havin' a bare patch right where my fur should be thickest makes it loads colder," Rocket replied. "But, uh, yeah, the exposed metal skeleton might have somethin' t' do with that."

Drax laughed, and clipped Rocket on the back. Rocket took it as a gentle gesture, but, before he realized it, he was being flipped over Drax's shoulder and thrown flat on the ground.

"Holy fuck," Rocket wheezed. It didn't hurt that much, Rocket knew how to take a fall, but man, was it a surprise. Gamora and Peter had sparred with Drax before in the cargo hold, but Rocket was too small in his own form and so unused to fighting with martial arts that he'd never been on the receiving end of one of Drax's throws before. The Drax with a kerchief tied around his left wrist the color Rocket still couldn't quite get used to- **_red_**\- Peter, then, snorted at Rocket shocked and on the ground, before Drax barreled towards him, flinging Peter aside like a rag doll. Brown wrist marker- Groot, then- charged Drax, and swiftly landed two jabs to Drax's torso and a right hook to his jaw.

"This works for us," boomed Groot, pointing at himself, then Peter and Gamora. "But Rocket does not know how to fight."

Drax turned around to hold out a hand to Rocket, still flat on his back in the spongy moss. "Have you ever thrown a punch before?" he asked, curiously.

"I've clawed people, if that counts?"

"Not quite. Here, let me show you a proper stance. Peter, Groot, and Gamora, why don't you go spar further down? There is a small field half a kilometer west of here that would be good."

The other three Draxes nodded, and Gamora flashed a small smile, flexing her muscles. "Shall we race?"

* * *

"Ffffff…" Rocket said, lying flat on his back in the sun after two hours of training with Drax. "I'm beat. Drax, couldja get me some of my clothes? **_Little me_** clothes? I kinda just wanna nap out here a bit."

"Certainly," Drax replied, stretching out. "I wonder why we get so exhausted even after we change back to ourselves, though, like yesterday. Gamora just shattered one of Peter's bones while they sparred, and he simply turned back into himself, then me, and kept going. But now everyone is…."

"Burnt out," Rocket finished. "Prolly mental exhaustion. I don't even wanna think 'a the physics that make this work. Conservation a' mass 'n energy alone means that there should be a supernova's worth 'a light every time, and a mini black hole. But there ain't. 'S like we get to say 'fuck ya' to the basic laws'a the universe every time we do this."

Drax patted Rocket on his bald head. "I am not complaining, my furry friend. We have become quite close over this shared ability. And, while I had been quite apprehensive of seeing others of my people… now I only see brothers. And it is good."

"Ya think we woulda been accepted as warriors like ya?" Rocket asked jokingly, stretching. Drax noticed Rocket was arching his back in a curve just like he did as a… whatever Rocket was.

Raccoon, Peter had said.

"I was no warrior back home," Drax said wistfully, as he began walking back towards the ship. "I was once a farmer."

* * *

Rocket lazily opened an eye. It was dark. He shot up instinctively, and felt and smelled the ash of a fire behind him.

"Lunch?" Peter asked, holding out a stick of flame-cooked tubers.

Rocket cracked his neck, blinked, and shook himself out, fluffing up his fur. "Huhwha?"

"You were only asleep for three hours," Drax- no, brown bandana tied at the wrist, so Groot- replied. "This planet has a very fast rotation. Days and nights only last about five hours each."

"Lunch under the stars, huh?" Rocket said, smacking his lips and wobbling up on his hind legs. He was still a bit weak.

Fuck it.

Rocket stretched out, and plodded over on all fours, hopping up on a dead log someone had overturned into a bench seat, squatting on his haunches, his tail lazily swishing behind. Groot reached over and gave Rocket a stick of charred avian meat, and a scratch behind the ears for good measure.

"Stars are the same, out in space, but their relation to one another as seen from a planet leads to very different patterns," Drax remarked, in between ripping vigorously at a leg of local fowl. "If this planet were inhabited, I wonder what stories they would make from the constellations?"

"Well, I see one that looks like Gamora," Peter remarked. "See? There's a gas cloud- I think that's the Hyvillia, but it's hard to tell- that's your hair. And that outline of stars there- that bright one for the head is Iona, Xandar's sun- that's you. And those four are your sword."

"I suppose that's all of us now," Gamora said, smiling.

"My people are no longer dead, because of this," Drax commented. "Nor are yours, Gamora."

"An' I have people now," beamed Rocket.

"You and Peter already **_have_** people," Groot joked, flicking an ear. "They're just stupid animals living on some backwater no-fly zone."

"Hey, I resemble that remark," Peter quipped, as he swallowed a roasted bird heart.

"Speaking of," Groot added, " want to see what Rocket looked like as a kid?"

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say 'fluffy and adorable'," Peter replied, shaking his now-empty skewer at Groot.

Groot beamed, and began shrinking, not even bothering to take off his clothes as he was becoming so small. Quickly, the kerchief slid onto the mossy ground as his arms went from Drax's massive musculature to tiny- even tinier than Rocket tiny- arms, slowly shrinking out of view. Eventually, Groot emerged from the tent of fabric that was his pants, completely covered in thick, soft fur, not a metal implant or strut in sight. Groot chirped.

He was a good head and a half shorter than Rocket, and some of the changes were more subtle. He was fatter, his front paws were shorter, with far more pronounced claws, and his legs tucked under on all fours in a slightly different way than Rocket's did. He stood up and walked flat footed on his back legs like Rocket, but the steps were weak and unsteady.

"I'm not s'posed to be able to walk on two for long periods," Rocket explained, running a paw through the fuzz on Groot's back. "I could, '**_before'_**, but it weren't ideal. That's why I have this," he added, pointing to the strut on his collarbone. Everyone knew from experience that he had another at his hips.

Groot squeaked, returned to all fours, and waddled to Drax, jumping up and settling in his lap.

"Think he wants to be petted," Rocket said, snorting.

Groot made a chittering noise and headbutted one of Drax's massive hands, demanding head scratches.

"This form is not in the bio-database, yes?"

"Yeah, they did a ton 'a work on me. Gene therapy too, look at 'is paws 'gainst mine. I had an opposable thumb 'fore, but not nearly the capacity for fine motor skill."

"Useful for covert operations then," Gamora interjected, scooting closer to Drax to look more closely at Groot. "I, unfortunately, possess no records of me as a child, so, while it may have been useful, does us no good."

Drax simply picked up Groot, draping him from a shoulder down his front. Groot's tail swished lazily against a pectoral, content, as Drax cradled him to his chest in one arm and made long sweeps from Groot's head to mid-back with the other.

"There is something to be said about stress relief as well," Drax remarked.

"Which is true, 'cause we are going to need it," Peter responded, sliding next to Drax on the other side, scratching Groot behind an ear.

"What, ya talkin' about the bounty that's on us?" Rocket said, looking at the three huddled around Groot and not the slightest bit jealous at the petting and attention- certainly not enough to crawl up on Drax's free knee and bother Gamora for scratches. Which he was absolutely not planning on doing as he got up off his log and moved over to the rest of the group.

"Why would we have a bounty? We have done nothing illegal in the months since Xandar. If nothing, we have done a mixture of supply and cargo drops mixed with deposing of criminals **_ON_** the bounty list," interjected Gamora, who began ruffling Rocket's fur absentmindedly. "Nova would excise it from the intergalactic database even if an enemy of one of ours listed it so."

"Unofficial," Rocket replied, lifting his head up just so. It was so they could hear him, dammmit, not so Gamora could have easier access to his chin. "Hardline Kree have put a total of what, 330,000 on everyone but Groot? They think he's dead, so they don't care. Groot told me this mornin'."

"Ah," Drax said.

"Thinking about having Yondu turn some of us in, he can keep the off-the-books bounty for the trouble and probable- **_very_** probable- backup, and we get the real, official bounties from Nova. Taking in even one of the ringleaders will set us up for quite a while. I did some research on them," Peter replied.

"So the bounty is for us alive, then?" Gamora asked, voice raised and interested.

"Yeah."

"They will want to execute or, more likely, given our status, torture us in public as a display of power."

"Yeah."

"Like proddin' me with an EMP until I go animal for good," Rocket interjected, shuddering. "Effing **_hate_** EMPs."

"And yet, Groot here is you **_before_** modification and totally cognizant," Gamora replied, beginning to understand.

"So if someone else swapped with me and got blasted…"

Groot nodded vigorously, growing a few inches as struts and metal parts began to stick out of his skin, a large patch of fur burning away on his back.

"They would be like I just was, Rocket." Groot replied, now with Rocket's voice. "Not lobotomized as you would be. We can trade places based upon what sort of public punishment they would likely give each of the real us."

"Not all. Groot has no bounty, no point turning him in. And Drax's is the lowest, much lower than anyone else's, so we hang two of us back," Peter interjected.

"I am not sure whether I should be flattered or insulted, Drax cut in.

"Way I see it, Yondu gives them a Peter, a Gamora, and a Rocket. Probably Drax, Groot, and Gamora in some combination, since you three are the best on your own if things go sour."

"Which they will, no doubt," Rocket huffed. "But Pete's right. I'm the best as me, but can't do too much damage without parts to build a weapon. Can't aim quite right as Gams, and still can't really brawl as Drax. Could be Groot and just flail 'round, but, yeah. Not ideal."

"Rocket and I can stay behind, and do… something. I have to see what the layout of the place you'd probably end up in, or the drop point. But I'm going to assume some hacking will be in order. Or, at least, some sleight of hand to acquire keys and slip soporifics to guards."

"Hey, Pete?" Rocket asked, half lost in thought realizing he couldn't put himself in the ine of fire in any sensible capacity. "I know ya mentioned having to be Yondu's kid before, and ya crazy good at disguises. How good are ya with makeup and prosthetics?"

"Very," Peter replied. "Until Xandar got smart with bioscans, I usually did pickpocketing as a Krylonian or Centurian. But there's no way that'll fly most places now. Unless you're talking somewhere poor or remote…"

"Yeah, but they don't scan **_kids_**. Child laws prevent for safety reasons- summat about preventing abusers from findin' kids or summat, and the Kree follow it too- most Kree aren't asshats like the Ronan supporters. Can you make you, well me-you as a kid, a little Kree?" Rocket scrunched his face, as he considered what he could do from the outside.

"Easier than a Centurian," Peter replied, grinning, mental gears turning at Rocket's suggestion. "And I have an angle to get you inside, too. Yondu's got a few Kree on his crew, and we can just have him want to confirm 'our' deaths with an observer and his kid. Show the son what it means to disobey Kree cultural law or something."

"If I know one thing about hardline idealists," Gamora said, seething anger bubbling underneath her words, "it is that they appreciate someone indoctrinated young. I doubt our buyers-to-be will reject such a request." She coughed once, regaining her composure after she realized she'd accidentally yanked Rocket's right ear in frustration.

"Shall we call upon Yondu, then?" Drax asked. "We still need some more information from him."

"Let's finish our food first," Groot grunted, sliding out of Drax's grasp, yanking up a grilled vegetable skewer from the rack over the fire.

"Cannibal," Drax commented.

Four sets of eyes turned towards Drax, blinking in awe.

"What, was that too morbid?" he asked innocently.

"Drax, man," Peter said, mouth agape. "You just made a **_joke_**."


	7. Everyone is Scared

I've decided to split the final chapter in two (possibly three). The setup is here, and the actual rescue portion will be separate. It would be over 10,000 words otherwise, and would be a bit lopsided. Plus, now you have 100% more cliffhangers!

Oh, and yes, plans will go off the rails. The only one who's relatively safe is Drax, but everyone else...

_**Hehehehehehe**_

* * *

"Ho-ly shit," Yondu commented, whistling low. One of the three Peters he saw in front of him, the adult one that wasn't wearing ripped clothing caked in dried splatters of blood, flinched slightly ad Yondu's additional curses in his native tongue.

"Okay, so I've figured out _**Beer**_, shitty code names, by the way," Yondu added. "Since none a' the rest a ya can understan' Centurian."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Let's save getting into character for when we really need to? I think we're all nervous as it is."

"Who's who, then?"

"_**Cocktail**_," said the other adult Peter, clothes burned, frayed, and splattered in streaks of dirt and blood. Gamora smiled grimly, and Yondu noticed a tooth had been knocked out.

"Ya really went all-out."

"Well, we would have put up a fight," Gamora insisted.

"Still, impressed," Yondu said, looking over the 'Peter', 'Rocket', and 'Gamora' they were going to be cashing into the Bloodline Federation. "Pete did this? Haven't lost your touch, boy. How'd ya blacken the tooth? I don' see any shine."

"Doorknob and string," Peter replied, smugly.

"Ya… _**pulled it out**_?!"

The bloodstained Gamora to 'Peter's' left shrugged. "It will grow back when Gamora turns back to herself. Any injury we sustain transformed disappears when we become ourselves again. _**Water**_, by the way," said Groot. He had a few deep cut lines across his emerald face; dried fern-green blood caked and streaked down to his tight leather collar.

"So then you're _**Ale**_," Yondu said, squatting, looking at Peter's handiwork on Drax- turned-Rocket. His jumpsuit was torn in two, limp bits of blue fabric dangling off and burned, exposing the bits of metal on his back. Three sets of scorch marks had burned one neat line of fabric and two streaks down the fur. Yondu recognized the distinct pattern of the Ravager's standard laser rifle's muzzle markings at close range.

"Fuck ya too," Drax spat, fur- or what was left of it- puffing in practiced indignation.

Yondu nodded at the display. "I just hope ya didn't actually shoot him for this effect," he said, pointing at one of the burn marks.

"Other than the tooth, all of it's just makeup or trickery," Peter said, kneeling next to Yondu to show off his handiwork. "Obviously, I ripped, burned, and distressed everyone's clothing _**off**_ of them. The blood is all real, but it's our own draw of bloodpacks from our med supply. None of the cuts are real, just pinched skin and glue."

"How'd ya do the burns? It smells like ash." Drax twisted sideways so Yondu could get a better look at one of the lines.

"It _**is**_. We shaved lines down and I took a lighter and just burned the cut ends without touching skin."

"So, that mean's you're _**Cognac**_, then," Yondu said, looking at the three-and-a-half foot kid Peter, shock of blonde hair, dressed in the exact opposite of the three 'hostages'- fine linens with sharp trim. Kree nobility. A small metal pin with cord was affixed to his cloak, a skull and dagger symbol utilized by Ronan's followers. Yondu noticed the colors were slightly muted as if overwashed, and the cloak's lining subtly patched. _**Fallen**_ nobility. Peter really did his homework.

"Right, then," Yondu said, clicking his tongue, clearly not tearing up from seeing Peter as a young child again. "You three, my men other than Kraglin don't know about the party trick, just that this is a setup that'll make us rich. Once you step outta this airlock, clock starts. I'll have some a' my men truss ya up before we jettison ya' to the wolves. Ale, any objections t' bein' caged, too?"

"Ya gonna do it anyways," Drax replied as Rocket might, then dropped the act. "Of course not. We assumed you might ask, anyway."

"As long as ya don' put it anywhere near me," the real Rocket mumbled under his breath.

"Right, then, get somethin' to eat from mess. Kraglin'll show ya. Stick to dry food n' water, but get somethin' in ya. No clue how long they'll starve ya."

Gamora rolled her eyes, tousling her too-short hair as Peter. "Oh, just like old times," she said, sighing.

"No it ain't, Cocktail. Ya got people waitin' for ya now. Knock 'em dead."

"That _**is**_ the intended plan," piped Groot, as Yondu shoved the three of them out of the airlock ship bay and into the main corridor where Kraglin was waiting.

* * *

"Dammit, this is cold," Rocket whined, stripped down to underclothing. Prosthetics weren't necessary; Peter had just carefully shaved Rocket bald, piles of his own childhood blonde hair scattered around the clamp chair Rocket was sitting in, twitchy and anxious. The first layer of makeup that Yondu and Peter were applying was frigid, and being mostly naked without fur wasn't helping. They'd retreated back into the Milano docked inside the Eclector, away from possible prying eyes; Yondu had brought out his paints and brushes to them so his crew wouldn't see a multitude of Peters.

"Sit still, rat, unless you want this to take even longer. Base layer is always the worst. Then you'll start complanin' you're too hot. I'll give you a blanket to wrap 'round your legs if it'll shut ya up."

"And we'll airbrush the details, that'll be faster," Peter added, helpfully, dancing around Yondu to grab a spare blanket off the couch, dropping it on Rocket's lap.

"Still, probably about two hours, I'd wager. Pete, get started on his arms, I've got the head." Rocket groaned. He wished one of them would turn on a holo or something for distraction.

"You got it, boss," Peter replied. Yondu glared.

"Not ya boss anymore, boy," he grunted, flicking some of the makeup onto the side of Peter's face.

"Oh look, a Jackson Pollack painting," Rocket noted, adorably in Peter's child's voice.

* * *

Peter rubbed his palm down Rocket's finished arm and looked. Clean, no streaks.

"Setting powder did its job. No smearing."

"Good. Last thing's nails and contacts," Yondu said, nodding in approval.

"Ugh, right," Rocket groaned. "I _**hate**_ stuff near my eyes."

"Once they're in, though, you won't feel them," Peter replied, pulling Rocket's chair over to the galley, sitting at the bench seat alongside. "Hand out, now, you still need your nails covered up."

"Look this way," Yondu commanded, and Rocket turned. Yondu gently held Rocket's eyelids and put a red-tinted contact in, releasing. "Blink."

Rocket blinked, twitching, except for the arm that was pinned down by Peter.

"One more, rat. Hold on, you're almost there." Yondu sounded almost… paternal. Almost.

"Other hand, Rocket," Peter asked, as Yondu slid the other contact on, neatly. Yondu grasped Rocket's finished hand, and pulled a small UV light out from under his coat, waving it over the wet blue polish.

* * *

"Pretty good?" Peter asked, after leading Rocket down to the polished metal wall in the cargo hold that doubled as a good mirror.

"Not bad at all," Yondu replied, looking over their little Kree.

Rocket turned in the mirror, looking over the makeup job.

"Hey, my handler, what creole of Kree does he speak?" Rocket asked, as he scrutinized the work, finding no exposed peach skin and the right amount of shading to look like real Kree flesh.

"Uh," Yondu replied, "Sout'allow?"

"Oh, good, I know that one. I was worried I might have to be mute." Peter noted a slight delay in his translation as Rocket spoke.

"Oh, right, a kid that age might not have a translator implant yet," Peter remarked.

"Hey, if we're doing this, we are doing it right," Rocket replied. "I don't sound slurred when I talk now, do I?"

"Nope, all good, bud," Peter replied.

"And what are ya gonna do, boy?" Yondu asked, addressing Peter.

"You know what Rocket is, right, species -wise?"

"I've seen critters like 'im before sold off as exotic pets or for meat, yeah. No idea what they is by name, though."

"There you go," Peter replied, shrinking rapidly, as his clothes pooled up around him. Finished, he wriggled out of the pile as a young Rocket, fluffy and without a trace of modification. Rocket picked up Peter, balancing him on a shoulder.

"Oh, yeah, I have that harness and bandana from the printer," Rocket said. Peter nodded vigorously and Rocket walked them both into his workshop, fishing for the props.

Yondu shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around their skill. "Fucking idjits, why didn'tcha each just make yourselves younger?" he called out.

"Can't," Rocket replied. "Trust me, we tried."

"I hate cosmic shit," Yondu replied, seeing the two of them return from the workshop, Peter fitted in a pet harness with a bandana tied around his neck. "Thank Gods I didn't touch that fucking stone."

* * *

"Where's the big guy and the tree?" Koursa, a buff Krylonian mechanic asked, as Rocket and Peter joined the rest of the team already in the mess hall, as they waited for the drop. Several of Yondu's off-duty crew surrounded them, a pile of cards between as they played a betting game to take everyone's minds off the danger to come.

"They're providing backup from elsewhere," Rocket replied.

"And _**you're**_ sneakin' in with them? Ye can't be older'n twelve."

"I'm a _**Skrull**_," Rocket replied, holding out a hand. "Horzai, friend of Rocket's," he added. "Me and Prana here are going to pick some locks and cause general mayhem. Who is supposed to be my father?"

"Trig," Koursa replied, cursing at the cards on the table. "Probably gettin' chewed out by Yondu right now. Ya know the Cap's got a soft spot for ya, Pete," she added, elbowing Gamora in the ribs, before dropping her own hand of cards to the table. "Fuck it, I'm out."

"Your pet a Skrull too? I heard these critters bite, if it's a real one, uh, sorry Rocket," asked Whooka, the ship's doctor, a massive Badoon who adored small, fluffy animals, hoarding the largest pile of chips among them.

Peter nodded, and held out a paw to shake, even though he knew Whooka well. Peter jumped from Rocket's shoulder straight to Whooka's, testing his skill, and the giant began patting Peter's head affectionately. Considering the number of boxed ears Whooka gave Peter as a kid for being an inconsolable moron, Peter smirked internally.

"S'more bread 'd be nice," Drax slurred. Koursa passed a hard brown loaf down the table to Drax, who greedily ripped a hunk from the end, dipping his fingers in Groot's glass of water and devouring the food in large chunks.

"You do know the bounty collector's won't bug you, shrimp, but they'll definitely scan Trig and…"

"_**Prana**_," Rocket supplied. The pseudonyms seemed difficult to remember, but they were simply 'kid' and 'beast' in Rocket's tongue from Halfworld. And Rocket would go along with any name his father-to-be decided on calling him, anyway.

"Trig won't trip the sensors, he really is Kree. Prana, though?"

"We've already accounted for that. Even if he's scanned, he'll show up as a raccoon, right down to the molecular level. Not a Skrull-turned-one."

"That's a trick Yondu's gonna wanna know about," Koursa commented. "We've got three Skrull in our crew."

"Don't worry, we told him how it's done, I owe him one anyway," Gamora replied, lifting a hand to scratch the stubble on her chin, before stopping herself. "Ugh. I have the worst itch but I don't want to smear the blood," she hissed, annoyed. "How much longer?"

"Half an hour, people," Yondu boomed, almost as if on cue, coat flaring behind as he walked up to the table, looking square at Rocket. "Kid, Trig, Trig, kid. Get your cover straightened out." He turned to Drax, Groot, and Gamora, adding, "Pete, Gamora, and rat, come around so we can gag and bind ya."

Groot, Drax, and Gamora dropped their cards on the table, holding out arms.

"No, idjits. I'm tying from behind the back, easier to dislocate a shoulder and break outta this stuff if ya need to. _**Pete**_, you of everyone should _**know that**_." Yondu groaned, flicking Gamora on the side of the head, working quickly with Whooka to roughly secure bindings and gags, rubbing the bindings on Gamora and Groot's arms quickly to produce small rope burns. "Can ya breathe okay? 'N I want your wrists lookin' raw when they cut these off, but I don' wanna restrict bloodflow." All three nodded. "Okay, rodent, I'm tyin' all your legs t'gether now. Koursa, hold 'im up. Somebody go fetch me the cage," he added, yelling at a group of three more Ravagers at the next table over, pulling out another length of plastic bindings for Drax's legs. "Gonna muzzle ya too, now, kay? Lemme know if yer havin' trouble breathin'."

Meanwhile, Peter had jumped back onto Rocket's shoulder, as Rocket and Trig introduced themselves and sorted out the story.

"So you're actually a disgraced Southallow noble," Rocket said, eyebrow raised. "That… makes things easy."

"Yeah, we make a big deal, make them think we are Skrull. They scan me, they scan your pet, get surprised that we are who we say we are, and they won't think of scanning you. Impressive diction, by the way. Where did you pick up the dialect?"

"Internet," Rocket replied. "I'm a bit of a quick study. Names?"

"Well, hm. My father's name was Noh-Varr, that's easy enough for me to remember and roughly in line with nobility naming structure. If I actually had a son it would be that or the name of one of my maternal uncles."

"Works for me. And, we need something easy for Prana… something older sounding, regal. Ruul?"

"Good as any."

"I'll do most of the talking, unless they ask about your pet. And Yondu prepared a small bag for you of toys and books you'd probably have on hand at your age. He says there's a few flat hidden compartments filled with fabric, that won't set off tech scans. I don't know what they're for, but he says you would."

Peter knew how Yondu made his contraband bags, and snatched it out from Trig's hands. In the linings were a few thin bodysuits.

"Oh," Rocket observed. "Extra clothes for those three if they get stripped and humiliated?" _**Extra clothes for when we have to transform, more like.**_

"Makes sense. I wouldn't put it past those assholes to do that, especially to a daughter of Thanos."

Peter shuddered. Groot knew what they might do to him as a public form of torture, but they would do their best to not let that happen.

"You really think they're going to…?" Rocket asked.

"We've intercepted messages from the org. They're going to override holocasts on every sentient planet in the quadrant. After Ronan's huge show and utter humiliation, they want this _**visible**_. After we contacted them about the trade, they've been talking about it nonstop. They're planning on frying the augmented one first, and giving the animal he'll revert to as a pet to someone. They want him alive and stupid- and Yondu told me not to intervene, you guys had something up your sleeve for him at least. I don't know what they plan on doing to Peter, but we're all Ravagers. Only we get to fuck with him."

"Yeah," Rocket replied. "Rocket's mods look like they're just mechanical- but all they'll do if they EMP blast him is make him loose the ability to talk or stand upright. He's just going to play stupid, and then sneak off with us. I'm more worried about Gamora and Peter."

"That's a relief; good to know he'll be able to safely buy everyone some time," Trig said, lifting Peter off Rocket's shoulders and on his own. "Your friend's a bit heavy, I'll carry him for a bit."

"I'm still worried," Rocket replied, weight literally lifted from his shoulders.

"Trust me, this is more dangerous than that stunt back on Xandar. But this is both Peter- our asshole, and, more importantly, a _**hell**_ of a lot of dough. Yondu's not paying our shares out unless everyone comes back alive."

"Selfish prick," Rocket spat, with an added laugh.

"Damn straight," Trig replied. "If I had a son, it'd be you. How old are you really, Skrull?"

"Sixteen."

"_**Sheish.**_ When Pete was sixteen, he was still getting parking tickets on Knowhere. Friend of our asshole Peter is a friend of mine. Let's go get rich, you little punk."

"My thoughts exactly."

* * *

Yondu piloted his skiff out to the drop point, one of the moons of Rigel-7. It was a failed terraforming experiment, so it had some minor vegetation and a breathable atmosphere. Kraglin and Trig forcibly dragged out 'Peter' and 'Gamora' to face the small squad of heavily armed Kree, while Yondu whistled, his arrow circling around his head as he hefted 'Rocket's' cage over a shoulder.

Rocket and Peter hung behind- Rocket in awe, and Peter clutching Rocket timidly. Rocket made sure to follow Trig's movements with interest, like a small kid attending Take Your Child to Work Day.

"Just these three?" one of the Kree boomed.

"If I _**found**_ the muscled idiot, you think I'd hide him? These asshats _**stole wot's mine**_. I've been putting bounties on their heads for months now, but the Xandarians keep wipin' 'em from the board."

"We've noticed."

Peter smirked internally. Yondu must have done it for show, all these months; bounty was always for them alive. Once a week, like clockwork, Yondu had put up another bounty on the team as a whole, usually with the reason "bad birthday gift". Peter was very glad he did.

"So when they offer a trade with me, we take our chance, n' take em down in my ship. I even have my M-ship back, thanks to those morons dockin' it and walkin' right in. Problem is, these fuckers already pawned off their Infinity Stone and I'm back to _**square. fucking. one.**_ They've set me back half a million, they did. Take 'em, gimmie the cash, and blow 'em sky high."

"It's well known you have Skrull on your ship. I want to see if this is a trick."

"Be my guest," Yondu said, holding out a bioscan.

"_**We'll use our own**_."

A sharp dressed Kree woman stepped forward, with very complicated equipment. This wasn't a simple surface scan. She shot a needle into the side of Gamor, drawing a small amount of red blood from her arm, as Gamora thrashed angrily against the bindings and Kraglin's sharp grip.

"That's really a half-human, half… something not in our database. But not a Skrull. And the surface scans match him to Peter. She went and did both Drax and Groot, blinking in shock at the readings.

"They're all real," she said, surprised, before quickly plugging a new syringe into a startled Kraglin, checking him as well.

"_**Ask us**_," Yondu growled, as he took off his jacket and rolled up a sleeve. "You punch a hole in my coat, I punch a hole in ya with an arrow, capiche?"

She checked Yondu next, and Trig. Rocket was bawling by this point, and Peter could tell by his shaking that it wasn't wholly an act. Rocket and needles were not on speaking terms.

"Why is there a child here?" demanded the original Kree, likely the leader.

"He is my son," Trig replied sternly. "I was forced to abandon my house and birthright from the war. Check your scan more closely. You should know who I am."

"'N that's the other half of it," Yondu replied. "Sir Trig wants to go with ya and witness the execution with his son 'imself."

"That is honorable," replied one of the other Kree. "Consider it done."

"The boy's pet," another mentioned. "Run a test on the creature, too. It looks too similar to the _**Guardian**_," he added, spitting out the word like a curse.

"Don't touch Ruul," Rocket cried, hugging Peter tightly. "Don't hurt him!"

"Noh-Varr, see here, it didn't hurt. They just want to see if Ruul is your pet."

"Well, he has a harness, and I have treats, and stuff. 'Course he is."

_**Nice kid-logic**_, Peter thought.

"It will only take a moment, Noh-Varr. You must learn bravery, as is your birthright!"

"Oh… okay…" Rocket said, lifting Peter from under the armpits out to the Kree scientist. "Be nice."

She stuck a needle in Peter's thigh, carefully drawing blood. "Yes, just one of those exotic pets," she said, showing the readout on her tablet to the rest of the group. "Rah-kunz."

Peter scrambled back on Rocket's shoulder, and let out an annoyed whine.

"Kid too?" the skeptical Kree asked.

"He is nobility, and has every right to join," said the Kree leader. "When this is over," he added, addressing Rocket, "how would you like a second rah-kunz pet? We'll have it arranged for you. It looks like Ruul could use a playmate."

"Would I ever!" Rocket said brightly.

_**These idiots are literally going to hand Drax back to us**_, Peter thought.

Now they needed to figure out what to do to save Groot and Gamora, and get that asshole leader in some bindings.


	8. Everyone is Cornered

Gamora sucked hard on the gag, sliding one of the bendris leaves Yondu had said he'd secreted away inside, out into her mouth, and swallowed. She usually made tea with them for herself, but for Peter, they acted as a pretty potent drug and painkiller. Which was convenient, as they were inexpensive cooking ingredients, easily obtainable, despite the opioid reaction in Quill. The oils in the leaves affected Rocket as well, so Drax probably had some in a dissolving capsule in his mouth.

She **_hoped_**.

She didn't even know what they were doing with (or to) Groot. The Kree hadn't done anything to her other than throw her in one of the heatsinks for the engine, but she simply shucked the red jacket back off her body (not completely, due to the hand bindings, but enough to not make her overheat) and kicked away her shoes, and let herself steam in just the thin shirt and cargo pants.

They were probably saving whatever they'd planned on doing to Quill for their public display. Not a show of extreme power if Peter Quill were already unconscious or dead. They'd probably want to strike fear in them, break them…

She knew this well. She could take this.

She closed her eyes and prayed for Drax and Groot.

* * *

Drax had it easier than expected. They'd cut him out of his suit and left him naked in the coolant tunnel, still caged and bound, in deep darkness. They might as well have sung him a lullaby and offered him a snack. The Kree believed Rocket when he'd told them that raccoons were desert creatures and loved dry, hot places with lots of light, doing the exact opposite to Drax as a form of minor torture.

"Ruul likes warm spots," he'd said, when the Kree scientist asked him. "He's always sunning himself when he can, and look how he snuggles me to stay warm! You going to be nice to the talking one, too?"

"Yeah, kid. We'll let him run around in the heatsink."

When they simply shoved the entire crate into the coolant tube, and sealed it behind them, Drax listened how long it took for them to both open the spot, and seal the opening behind them. Five minutes, approximately to open, seven to close; you wouldn't want the ship to drop to freezing temperature, and separating the service door from the insulation took time.

Plenty of warning for Drax. The minute it was shut, Drax twisted his paws, sliding out of the bindings (careful not to undo them), and curled up tail-over-snout, puffing out fur as insulation.

His upper back was a bit chilly, sure, but overall, it could have been far worse. His belly fur was plenty warm and left untouched, as were his face and tail. He could have shrunk down to young Rocket for more fur while he waited, but he'd lose the burn marks and possibly make-up.

Overall, not bad. He listened for the noise of the hatch being reopened (actually, all the noises on the ship telling him how fast they were going and when they might dock, from his many sessions meditating with Rocket) and thought of Gamora and Groot.

* * *

Groot didn't quite understand what the big deal was. He knew non-consenting reproductive copulation was a large societal taboo; he understood forcing someone to do something against their will was invading their personal space. But why this particular act, instead of, say, breaking a bone, or another act of violence?

It didn't even happen, anyway.

"Do you want to **_die_**?" Trig asked two of the Bloodline Federation members. "She's a daughter of Thanos, how many men do you think she's seduced, then slain? She could very well be poisonous there, or something to that effect. I know **_I _**wouldn't risk my life on that."

One of the Kree nervously clutched his crotch, backing out of the room slowly.

"Honestly, we're not even sure how to **_break_** her," another added, as they slid and locked the door behind them. Groot turned up the reception on his hearing augs and listened to the rest.

"Thanos has already given her the five star treatment," the crotch-grabber butted in. "I'm not sure **_anything_** we have would do anything at all. We may just shoot her and move on to the others."

"Yeah, but **_killing_** her? Rogue or not, she's a **_daughter of Thanos_**. If you want to incite his wrath, be my guest," replied the other.

"Clamp her eyes open and make her watch her friends be reduced to pitiable animals, then," interjected Trig. "If anything, Thanos might appreciate her seeing her friends reduced to a pet and a… what were you planning on doing with that Terran, anyway? Either way, she'd get a stern reminder of what happens to her if she goes against her father's wishes. You might even be able to brainwash her and pass her off to Thanos as a reward afterwards."

"Oh, what we have planned for the Terran? That one's fun," replied another. "We're going to make him go deaf. Rip out his translator chip, maybe rupture his eardrums for good measure, using some of his own music blasted directly in his ears. He'll never be able to understand anyone again."

"Hubris. I like it," replied Trig.

"And I appreciate your suggestion. Maybe we can even force her to control the music volume somehow, so she feels like it's her fault when he goes deaf…"

Groot blinked. He knew they weren't the nicest of people, and he understood that the Xandarians had not been squeaky-clean in their centuries long conflict. He understood that some Kree held an honest distaste and distrust of Xandarians, and did not begrudge them for it.

**_This_** however, was cruel. Thank Odin that Gamora could just change back, good as new, and that she trusted him.

He wasn't sure he could trust himself, though.

* * *

Drax had artfully slipped back into his bindings a full minute before the hatch was pulled off, fur patted back down.

**_If I were locked somewhere cold and dark for three hours and not equipped for it, how would I react?_** Drax thought, settling on a quiet whimper and shivering. He screeched loudly at the sudden shock of bright light, and they dragged the cage back to the bridge. Groot was there, sitting quietly, looking entirely unharmed. In fact, Drax noted elevated heartbeats and sweating in a number of the make Kree near him. Gamora, however, the real Gamora, did not look nearly as well. Drenched in sweat, without shoes, and a blank expression on her face. Was she meditating? Had they actually gotten through to her?

He sniffed.

* * *

Rocket was horrified. Drax was shivering, but Rocket knew the temperature of the cooling tubes in a Kree ship. He was almost positively faking (and faking well). Groot seemed just fine.

Gamora, however, did not. Had they already…?

Tap. Taptap. Taptap.

Peter was squeezing his shoulder in a deliberate pattern. **_Morse_**, just as they'd prcticed_. _Rocket reached up and scratched him behind the ear, and Peter started over.

_She's high as a kite, Rocket. She's definitely eaten a bendris leaf, maybe more than one. She's fine._

* * *

The airlock hissed open, Trig and Rocket (with Peter by proxy) were ushered onto the planet with grace, and guided to an area for seating.

"You are beginning right away?" Trig asked incredulously.

"The minute we heard word that you has secured the real Guardians," replied an usher, decked in war-paints. "Well, it seems you are missing one. When we have overturned the pansies currently running government, we will make sure to return your birthright to you, Sir Trig."

Trig scoffed, as he gently clipped Rocket on the shoulder. "It's been quite some time since anyone has called me that, indeed."

* * *

It hadn't even been a half hour when Drax's cage had been dragged out onto a platform. Too fast. Drax's electro-shocking would buy the rest some time, but they didn't have very much to begin with. These Kree were organized, prepared. If they weren't trying to make such a statement to the galaxy as they were, Drax would have been dead (or, more likely, turned into Groot and trying to fend for himself- but transforming in public was to be an absolute last resort.

Drax thrashed against his captors. He knew he was being recorded, that some Kree was booming into a microphone, but there were so many noises, so many smells, that all he could focus on were the assholes surrounding him.

Someone clipped his nails.

His bindings were removed.

He didn't need to be told to run, his legs buckled from under him and he started towards a smell-any smell- he could pick from the crowd. He smelled **_himself_**.

**_Peter_**, his brain supplied.

He didn't get more than three paces before someone was on him, holding him up, naked to the camera to show off the modifications.

"If there is any doubt that this is the- **_the beast_**\- that dared defy Ronan, well…" the announcer cried, as Drax struggled against the sheer size of the man who was holding him, "let him defend himself," he finished, as he took out a sword (**_really_**? Drax thought) and sliced off the muzzle from afar.

Drax did not grace him with the litany of swears he was considering, instead, choosing to keep silent and struggle.

"It's your funeral," the announcer boomed. "There's a young boy of noble blood with one of your species- the stupid animal you are inside that circuitry- as a pet. Let's give him another." One of the ones holding Drax in place pulled out a small device and strapped it to the angry beast they thought was Rocket.

"Blast him back to the Stone Age," the announcer yelled.

"YOU FUCKIN' DON' YA LITTLE PIECE'A" Drax started, before his voice failed him. He felt everything shutting down inside, and let out a frustrated whine. Drax could even feel his memory banks frizzing out inside of him- thankfully his own consciousness was independent of it all.

The announcer threw his microphone to the ground in a curse; he'd been too close to the device and his own mic frizzed out.

Drax didn't have to act much- he was fine, inside, but he was still dazed and confused. The sounds roared to life as the Kree hollered in victory, and Drax just wanted to find a quiet corner to curl into, settling for curling into a ball right on stage.

One of the Kree, who had, moments before, rudely dislodged bindings and clipped nails, reached down to stroke the soft fur between Drax's ears. If he wasn't so weak, he'd have bitten his hand. The man picked him up, carrying him to Rocket, Peter, and Trig.

"Hidoi," Rocket cried. "Omae, sono kawaikute, chiisai doubutsu ni itakunatta no ni!"

"Chigaimasu," the man replied, holding Drax up and passing him to Rocket. "Ii ko-araiguma ni natte dake desu."

**_Great_**, Drx realized, as he purred under Rocket's gentle grasp. **_My translator has been disengaged along with everything else_**.

Peter shoved his nose in Drax's ear, and then began grooming him with a little pink tongue.

"Looks like they will get on like brothers," Trig said to the guard, holding out a hand to Drax, waiting for the pulse of squeezes of Morse to confirm his condition.

**_Okay. Translator down. Cannot understand speech,_** Drax squeezed out, as Peter playfully nipped him. Drax screeched out, licking him back on the face, just under his left eye, as a quick sign to Peter and Rocket that he was inside and whole.

* * *

Gamora-as-Peter had been brought out next, as well as Groot-turned-Gamora, Both were strapped and locked into chairs; Groot had a heart monitor attached.

**_He_**knew what was to come, did she? Gamora was sitting serenely, glazed over, breathing quietly from her nose, even as an ear device was strapped over her head.

It reminded Groot of Peter's headphones.

"Show Thanos how much you care for this stupid, worthless, Terran!" the announcer screamed. "The faster your heart beats, the louder the music. Know that when you rupture his eardrums, it's **_your_** fault for being the soft, useless creature you are! Drag yourself back to Thanos as you deafen this stupid, weak, backwater Terran!"

**_Oh_**. Groot, thought, smirking internally. **_That's it? That's the plan?_**

Even when they forced Groot's eyes open and his head turned towards the real Gamora, he sat there serene as wood in a forest.

**_I can outlast you all, Kree_**. Never underestimate the impassiveness of an ancient tree.

* * *

"Fuck this," the announcer spat, ten minutes later after noting- **_nothing!_**\- (even with his men torturing 'Peter' lightly) happened. "I am going to show you why you do not cross us. You are a daughter of Thanos and a weapon. You **_have no friends_**. You are a machine to serve him. I won't kill you, but…" he pulled a blaster from a coat pocket, aimed, and shot 'Peter' right in the chest.

"I could have shot him in the head or heart, made it painless. But why don't you sit there and watch him die? You could have played along, blew out his eardrums, maybe saved his life. But this? This is all on **_you_**."

Just because Groot knew Gamora could survive this, that she'd probably already healed her own laser blast once enough blood had seeped from the wound to hide her turning into Peter, again and whole, didn't mean he hadn't had enough.

He began to shrink.

Harden.

His wooden wrists strained at his restraints, and he broke free.

"I… am… Groooooooooot!" he shouted, as he smashed the head of one of the Kree on his left, sending him flying like a rag doll.

Peter jumped off Rocket in the crowd, following suit. Nobody fucked with his music volume except for him. Gamora could take care of herself, but his tunes (even if it was just a copy of his real cassette Yondu planted on Gamora for realism)? **_You don't mess with his tunes._**

"I am GROOOOOOOT!" he bellowed, hoarse from trying to speak with Groot's voice, a painless but difficult task. His eyesight was confusing, but as long as he walked straight and punched wildly, it didn't matter. Groot could see **_him_** just fine, and hopefully get Gamora out of harm's way if she couldn't get up herself.

Drax and Rocket looked at each other and shrugged, watching Gamora tear her clothes to shreds as she grew over a meter in size, both growing rapidly as well and barreling through the crowds.

Rocket was blasted in the chest by a laser cannon.

**_Become Groot again,_** he thought, and the wound healed.

Drax lost an arm, ripped straight from the socket.

**_Become Groot again,_** he thought, and a new one began to grow.

They didn't need to be **_good_**, or **_agile_**, or able to manipulate their bodies into twirling, thrashing vines, like the smallest Groot among them.

They **_just needed to keep becoming adult Groots_** until the Kree realized their enemies regenerated too quickly for them to fight, fleeing for their lives.

Let Groot- the **_real_** Groot- grow a long tendril and whip a blaster from someone's hand. Let Groot lift a Kree and hurl him like a bowling ball into a crowd. Peter, Drax, Gamora, and Rocket were **_tanks_**, wildly swinging and re-coalescing with each shot to their bodies.

At this point, the idea of earning any money from a living bounty was out the window. The Guardians were fighting for their **_lives._**

* * *

Trig, meanwhile, called Yondu, aware he was probably still monitored.

"Yondu, **_get your pasty ass down here and get me, you flarker_**. We're being attacked by… trees. Flarking regenerating **_trees_**."

"I'll send someone by, ya idjit. Jus' hang on. I don't leave my men behind."

* * *

The five Guardians holed themselves up in their own cargo bay, exhausted, and hungry, all but Groot metaphorically and literally burned away from the stress, after Yondu and his men carefully cornered them with flamethrowers and set one of the large Groots on fire to absolve themselves of any association with the plants as they came to do cleanup.

**_Peter_**, Yondu knew, from the discrete hand signal. He could take the hit. The real Groot couldn't reform as easily, and Yondu kept a close eye on the flames licking their way around to make sure he didn't get singed.

Their mission may have gone off the rails, but the Kree weren't messing with the Guardians again- at least not soon. Not if their carefully crafted plan could be thwarted by a copse of **_trees_**.

"Hey, Groot, buddy," Rocket whined out, flat on the floor and back to his own form, once Groot jettisoned their ship from the Eclector. "Order us some delivery, wouldja? I ain't movin', and don't think none a' us fleshbodies really have th' energy for it." Groot knew. They were all so exhausted that Yondu and his men- now all privy to their real secret- had to re-dress them. Whooka boxed Peter's ear for "being too fuckin' cute, you little flarker".

Groot leaned over, scratching Rocket under the chin, before going into Rocket's workshop to grab himself some Peter-sized clothes.

"We are Groot," Groot replied, as he circled back past the other four, growing in size as he pulled a charcoal-colored T-shirt over his head and slipped into shorts as he made his way up the stairs.

"That we are," Drax said, breath hitching as he stared at the ceiling of the cargo bay.

"That we are."

* * *

**_Epilogue_**

"I am Groot." Groot squeaked out over to the comms, as Rocket squished in next to him on the seat facing the display. Peter, Drax, and Gamora hung back, a bit sheepish, listening to their "I's" and "am's" and "Groot's" between the two towering trees on the comms and their own meter-high Groot on the ship. After about a half hour of discussion, the two giants ended the call, and Rocket and Groot turned back to face the other three, grinning like maniacs.

"Man, oh, man," Rocket said, elated.

"What happened?" Peter asked with interest.

"So, uh, hm," Rocket started, as he passed a large blanket to Groot to provide a little decency as he changed into a second Rocket.

"Those were my parents, the king and queen of our people," Groot cut in, as soon as he had a voice. "They thanked us."

"What did **_we_** do?" Gamora asked, leaning down to scratch Groot and Rocket between the ears. "Your people are self-isolated, they should have been furious."

"'Cept now everyone thinks that Groots can transform like Skrull, 'n cant be detected like Skrull can. 'N Groot's parents are pretty keen on keepin' up that ruse. Makes people goin' to X less likely. When 'nythin' could be a giant, angry, unkillable tree…"

"So everyone who saw the holo…" Peter started.

"Several billion people…" Drax continued.

"Think a bunch'a renegade massive-ass trees played the Kree hardliners for fools. Nova wants us to jet off to Taspis and laze on the beach. She's payin', too… just to rub it in that the Kree fucked up so hard. That we was just chillin' in some cabana the whole time."

"Nova's paying?"

"Well we did basically just give the Kree a giant middle finger. Even though we didn't get no bounty money outta the deal. Oh, and, we **_may_** be getting free fresh vegetables, fruits, and grain for life, courtesy of some backwater-ass planet. And fuel," Rocket added, as he elbowed Groot in the ribs.

"Honestly, and I can't believe I'm being the responsible one saying this, but free food and gas any time we pass X might actually be worth more in the long run than the money from Nova. But that does mean after our little vacation we need to get back to work. Can't trade fruit for guns in most places."

"Just a thought, however," Drax said, as Peter already giddily went to the console, setting a course for Taspis. "Won't X become a target for the hardliners? Fire is still an issue."

"Watch the holos later. Mother and Father have already staged being furious, exiling four adult Groot and one child. Naturally, it was fake, and those five were honored later at a private ceremony, but we're not the only ones with some skill in acting. It does help that no-one can ever tell us apart, and we can always carve ourselves to look like each other if we do have egregious differences."

Drax shook his head in awe.

"We are Groot, indeed," Drax said, picking up Rocket in one arm and the swaddled Groot in the other, walking to the bridge to await their next adventure.

* * *

**_Guys._**

**_Guys. Guys. Guys._**

I finished my first multi-chaptered fic. Everything else I've finished up to now has been one-shots.

Thanks for the crazy **_crazy_** ride.

Want to read more?

I have twenty-six **_(!)_** one shots, seven posted on their own (**_Nesting_**, **_Anatomy Lesson_**, **_Toddle_**, **_Truth_**, **_Ship Repair_**, **_Squish_**, and **_Order Me Something Strong_**) and the remaining nineteen in a collection (**_Nova, We Have a Problem_**) ranging from original Guardians stories with Vance Astro and Yondu to the 2008 run with Mantis, more MCU, and everything in between. I'm sure you'll find a short to enjoy.

On top of that, I have four continuing stories:

1\. **_The Hunt_** is my first fic, and still being written, it's slow going due to its puzzles.

2.**_ ReN_** is only one chapter and on hold, I'll be posting the entire rest at once (or on a set schedule once it's done), since the plot for it is quite tight. This one is going to get dark, and it's a hard M for a reason (violence, mostly).

3\. More recently, I have **_Thrusters_**, which deals with some of the transformation themes here done in a different way, following Peter as he deals with his mixed up half alien genetics. It's finishing up too, and the last chapter should be posted by week's end, maybe the beginning of next week.

4\. Lastly, I really, really want to plug **_Risky Business._** Yes, it's a Rocket/Gamora fic, which may be a turnoff. I know a lot of you guys ship Pocket, and for some reason, Rockmora gets a LOT of backlash. But if you like my work, give **_Risky_** a try! An absolutely **_amazing_** writer, somelittlemonster (he only writes on Archive of our Own, go look up his stuff), and I are working on it as a pass-along story. We leave each other with crazy cliffhangers that the other person needs to write themselves out of without breaking continuity. We're 40,000 words in and have had only one continuity error so far, and a minor one caught quickly at that. If you like my work **_at all_** (which you obviously do, coming all this way and finishing the story, **_thanks_**!) give it a try, even if Rockmora isn't something you'd consider reading.

* * *

Wether you're a first time reader or follow all my work, thank you ALL. Seriously. **_You're awesome._**

Lastly, with two of my five ongoing fics finishing, and one of the remaining three a pass along (so I'm writing only every other chapter with quite some down time in between), **_I'm looking for some new ideas._** Prompts are always welcome, whether they're a crazy action crossover or fluffy Pocket. I take **_all_** suggestions, so long as they're not smut/PWP, but I may take them in an interesting direction (someone asked for a wingfic, I wrote **_Thrusters_**, for example). And if you give me your name instead of just being anon, you'll get credit, just like Nianque did.

**_Again, I can't thank you enough._** Thanks for reading and enjoying.

Go out there and keep being awesome!


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